


Music to My Ears

by amybeegood



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Classical Music, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic descriptions of classical music being performed, Kylo calls a hitman, Kylo plays concert piano, Kylo wants his shit back..., Maestro Ren, Oral Sex, Piano Sex, Rey plays violin like a badass, Russian Mafia, mention of war/Halocaust, there will be smut and plenty of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 110,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amybeegood/pseuds/amybeegood
Summary: Rey met Ben when she was a child and they bonded instantly over a shared love of music...When Ben left, Rey was catapulted into a new life in New York and thought she'd never hear from him again.Now, she plays the violin that is Kylo Ren's inheritance. He vows he will do just about anything to get it back...until he realizes their past connection will force him to make a difficult choice.As Kylo's past drags Rey into a world of passion and danger, their shared destiny will either bring them together or destroy them both...





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter [@beegood_amy](https://twitter.com/beegood_amy) for updates to my ever-growing smut collection and occasional tweets. XOXO!
> 
> Your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and tweets mean the world to me! XOXO, Amy B.****

Watching Kylo Ren play piano in a live performance was a deeply uncomfortable, if transformative, experience.

He entered the stage to frenzied applause; Ren did not acknowledge the crowd in any way, but rather moved, wraithlike, to the piano, as if unwillingly pulled to it. His reputation for excellent, dramatic flair during a performance did not extend to his interactions with the spectators.

From the moment he seated himself, however, the air became unnaturally still as the audience sank into a collective, anticipatory reverie.

The lighting effectively obscured the players of the orchestra behind him.

The spotlights were trained solely on Ren and the piano at the front of the stage.

Alone, under the glare of the lights, his uncultivated physical presence arrested every eye in the hall. His height and breadth were intimidating, but his stylishly tailored tuxedo matched his frame, and his crisply starched, blindingly white linen gave the appearance of refinement.

But his unruly hair and shadowed eyes hinted at something half-wild, menacing, and unpredictable beneath the urbane façade.

Nevertheless, he sat with a graceful flick of his tailcoat, cranked his neck to either side, making audible cracking sounds, and took a measured breath.

He did not acknowledge the conductor in any way, merely extended his hands to the gleaming keys of the instrument in front of him and waited for an impossibly long moment.

The concert hall was utterly still, audience mesmerized. Then, as if communicating telepathically, the conductor lifted his arms and the music poured forth…

Ren played with naked, stripped-down emotion.

The wicked intimacy of it carried through the entirety of his powerful physique. Arms stretched, legs and feet moving quickly over the pedals, hands flowing elegantly over the keys, Ren’s performance hit like an earthquake, cracking foundations and devastating everything in its path.

Ren played like a man strapped to a medieval interrogation rack, slowly being stretched beyond human capacity, as if the damage inflicted by joints popping, muscles tearing, veins and vital organs and bones pulled into painfully unnatural contortions, consumed his whole being with excruciating anguish.

Like watching someone have sex in the same room or endure a nervous breakdown, it was too private, too personal. It was a form of all-encompassing, exquisite, self-inflicted torture on full display.

As he performed, the noises he made bordered on scandalous.

He did not hold back vicious grunts or labored exhalations as his long, dexterous fingers thundered down onto the keys. His mouth hung partially open, flecks of spit flying from his trembling full lips as his body labored to produce the music, as if the notes themselves were torn from him at great expense on breaths of softly flung “puhs” and “uhmphs” and other reckless exclamations.

Rey imagined this is what it would look like to watch an angel die. It was at once the ugliest and most beautiful thing to witness…

He thrashed out the music as if he had no choice. And it was rapture. Passion. Suffering. What came out of that piano was the sound of a broken soul if a piano could make such a sound.

If anyone could call forth impossible music like this, Kylo Ren did it now.

As he continued, his countenance became that of a tortured man's or a demon’s: Red-faced and teeth bared. His tangled, shoulder-length, ebony hair flung sweat as his head whipped from side to side, body heaving and rolling under hunched shoulders, jaw clenched in a visible agony of effort, back stretched tightly under the expensive fabric of his tailcoat. His eyes, when glimpsed through his half-lowered lids and sweat-matted hair, burned like twin coals straight from the pit of Hell.

He played like he wanted to sacrifice himself on an altar of music, brimming with darkness and despair. His hands flung out at the keys as if he were whipping himself, in punishment and sorrow. He played as if he would pour out his soul until nothing remained, until any benediction that might have been intended for him was long gone and lost forever. He played as if he were crushing his own heart with his bare hands and eager to do it. As if he deserved it.

The music pounded forth in the cadence of a public execution. And he was the condemned man, laid out for the world to see, unable to escape, unable to hide.

As she listened, Rey knew he held back nothing. She felt she was being forced to watch something coarse, indecent. Like trench warfare or nuclear bombs exploding, or the lifeless, skeletal eyes of the walking-dead victims of the Holocaust. She knew the destruction was horrible to behold but she could not look away.

The minutes stretched into eternity. Time became a non-entity. Reality wavered as she was drawn into a place of Ren’s creation. A dark pit. A haunted place. Somewhere from a sad dream from which she could never escape.

As the concerto rose to an agonizingly poignant crescendo, so did her despair and her empathy. She now lived only for the next moment, entirely dependent on his actions to bring the experience to some kind of culmination.

The weight of the melody became a tangible hurt, a physically tender entity, devoid of grace, a raw, pulsing wound on her heart, which now beat only to the thrumming keys producing _his_ music, at _his_ will.

She wanted it to stop. She wanted it to last forever...

When it ended, he sat, breathing hard, looking momentarily stunned, as if he’d just run a marathon or finished a strong orgasm. For a moment, he remained seated, facing forward before he deigned to turn his head in a half nod, glowering at the audience from underneath his indecently dripping hair.

Without any further acknowledgment of the cheering crowd, he stood abruptly and casually stomped off stage as if walking away from someone he’d just fucked for revenge or spite.

As if he’d gotten what he wanted and couldn’t care less about the other, leaving her utterly destroyed, wrung-out, bruised and bleeding after what had been one of the most incredible performances she’d ever witnessed…

The audience stood in unison and roared an ear-splitting applause, and Rey slumped in her seat, jaw agape, tears pouring down her face. Enthusiastic cries of “Bravo!” and “Encore!” punctuated the cacophony around her in universal appreciation.

But for Rey, the world had become very small and very personal. She had just observed a tormented man rip out his soul, flay it open before a roomful of strangers, shred the pieces, and discard it as if it were less than worthless.

She had just watched one of the most talented musicians she’d ever known metaphorically exenterate himself and light the wounded pieces on fire.

And she knew exactly why he’d done it. As punishment. Atonement…

_For her._


	2. Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben is playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata when Rey first hears him through the window.

* * *

**Thirteen Years Ago**

The old piano at the nameless London orphanage was buried in the attic and horribly out of tune when Rey found it at the age of four.  

Rey would spend much of the next four years of her life beside that broken-down piano with the crumbling sheet music discarded carelessly on the floor and the whispery cobwebs all around.   

At first, she plucked at the keys gingerly, not sure if she would get into trouble for making noise. But nobody seemed to notice the sounds, so she kept going back.

After her fifth birthday, she heard piano music on Unkar Plutt’s television. He slept, unaware of her presence and clutching his whiskey bottle while she scavenged his sitting room for leftover food.

The piano music distracted her, however. It _captivated_ her.

The next day she scavenged an AM/FM wireless radio from the thrift shop next to the orphanage. As often as she could, she tuned in to a classical music station and listened. Quietly.

After stealing the radio, she wanted to know everything she could about music, and notes, and pianos.

When she was six, the reception on her radio grew worse. She scavenged a new antenna from the thrift shop next door and found the radio worked much better after she fixed it.

In her free time, Rey wandered around her run-down neighborhood, emboldened to explore further and further away from the orphanage with each passing day. She learned how far she could travel and still have enough time to return in time for evening line-up. She learned Unkar Plutt didn’t really care what the orphans did during the day, as long as they were out of his hair while he was sleeping off the results of his binge drinking from the night before.

Plutt’s supervision of his charges left much to be desired, not that Rey minded a bit.

As long as they appeared for evening inspection and line up, as long as their assigned chores were completed as dictated, as long as they didn’t miss too much school, and as long as they did not get into trouble with the authorities, the children were left to their own devices.

This was fine with Rey, who had no idea Plutt's neglect was untenable. She liked being able to come and go with relative ease.

She never did get into trouble for playing the piano in the attic, and so her tentative fingers grew bolder on the yellowed keys with each passing year.  

 

One day, Rey’s exploring took her around a corner and she found herself in a gated alley with a length of chain holding the gates together. These sorts of obstacles presented no problems for her nimble hands and lean, strong legs, especially now she’d grown and just turned eight.

She slipped through the gates as easy as could be and found herself in a different world…

Despite the overcast darkness of the day, the side street was much cleaner here, lighter, and the air even smelled different, nicer. Fresher. Rey heard the unmistakable notes of a piano in the distance coming from a window of the house at the end of the row. She crept closer, unable to resist.

Climbing in between the hedges growing near the open window, Rey stood on tiptoe and peeked inside.

She noted a smallish room, crammed from top to bottom with books, a few portraits, and even a strange sculpture of someone’s head sitting on a table, but the upright piano just inside and the person sitting in front of it irresistibly drew her gaze.

A very tall boy, older than her, sat at the piano. She could tell he was tall by the way his long legs stretched to the pedals, although he sat slightly hunched. His large hands roamed the keyboard and the most beautiful music she’d ever heard spilled forth. It was soft, like water, like raindrops, the melody entrancing. His face captured her attention as he played.

Rey couldn’t discern the color of his half-closed eyes, but she noted the thick, dark lashes framed by dark, expressive brows drawn into a slight frown. The boy’s full lips echoed the tension in his expression, his pale, long face. She thought he looked almost… _pretty_.

Rey’s curiosity forced her further on her toes and she must have made a sound because the boy turned his head and looked right at her as he played. It startled her so much she gasped, slipped, and fell immediately into the prickly hedges.

“Hey!” The boy exclaimed and jumped up, running to the window.

Rey scrambled to stand, sure she would be in trouble and made as if to run away.

“Wait! I – little girl, where did you come from?” At the sound of his voice, Rey turned and looked at him. His voice was almost a grown-up voice, but not quite.

He was not angry, just inquisitive and somewhat amused. She wasn’t scared of him, not really, but she kept her silence. She knew silence was best when dealing with unknown quantities.

“Um. Were you watching me play the piano?” She answered with a nod. “Well, where are your parents? You look pretty young to be wandering around.” He craned his head outside, peering up and down the side street for some sign of an accompanying adult.

“They’re dead,” Rey said matter-of-factly. “And I’m not a little girl. Can you show me more of that piano, please?”

The boy looked flummoxed, not sure how to handle a strange kid asking him such a thing. He opened his mouth to answer when a voice from the other room called out, “Ben! I don’t hear any practicing!”

Ben –the boy’s name is Ben, she realized – rolled his eyes and yelled at the door, “Gimme a minute, Uncle Luke! I’m writing down some notations!” Something angry flickered in his eyes, but Rey knew it was not directed at her.

Ben leaned back to her and asked mischievously, “Can you be quiet as a mouse?”

Rey nodded silently.

“All right. Up!” He stretched his arms down to her and she trustingly lifted hers to him. He pulled her to him as if she was light as a feather, glancing again up and down the street to make sure nobody saw him pulling a strange kid into his house through the window.

Rey’s eyebrows raised all the way to the top of her forehead, impressed at his strength, but she did not make a single peep.

He carried her to a chair next to the piano, somewhat awkwardly, and sat her down carefully. He put a finger to his lips instead of saying “Shh.” She remained quiet, but her eyes darted around the room with unbound interest.

“Are you sure you don’t have to be anywhere? Are there people looking for you?” He asked very quietly, retaking his seat at the bench in front of the piano.

Rey shook her head. Nobody would come for her.

As the thought occurred to her Rey swallowed a sad feeling. But then the boy’s – Ben’s – hands reached for the pristine black and white keys in front of him, and suddenly the most glorious music she’d ever heard washed over her, and she was spellbound.

He turned and winked at her as he played.

“I’m supposed to practice three hours a day non-stop, according to the _Maestro_ ,” Ben whispered confidentially, emphasizing the last word with obvious dislike and sarcasm.

It was lost on Rey, who was utterly captivated by this tall, pale boy with longish dark hair and eyes the color of something familiar. She couldn’t quite decide. Maybe like a sun-filled puddle after the rain? Or like the puppy she had seen once? Unkar Plutt’s whiskey bottle was a similar color, but Rey quickly threw that thought away.

She did not want to think about Plutt and his whiskey right now. She glanced back to the boy – Ben – and decided the puppy was the closest comparison for his eyes.

She sensed a kindred spirit in those eyes as he returned her gaze.

A small part of Rey recognized that him bringing her into the room through the window while he was supposed to practice his piano was against the rules.

“Uncle Luke” might get mad at Ben or her, but she was soon too caught up in the music to care, even about getting in trouble. Listening to music for real was so much better than listening to her radio.

She didn’t ever want it to end, this feeling of watching and listening, and she sat so quiet and motionless, Ben seemed to almost forget she was there. Enraptured, she watched his face and his hands and his legs stretching and flexing underneath the piano to press down on the pedals. But mostly she listened.

She was so beguiled that when a small buzzer on top of the piano went off, she jumped, the first motion she’d made in over an hour. Ben reached up to turn it off and looked back at her, quirking an eyebrow almost sorrowfully.

Then, without a word, he walked back to the window, motioned her over, picked her up, and carefully lowered her down to the hedges.

He smiled and whispered, “You are a good listener. Come back anytime you want.” And with a crooked grin, he waved as she ran down the alley.

 

From then on, Rey went to Ben’s every chance she could.

It was always the same thing. She would creep quietly up to the window where Ben would be practicing at the piano, alone. He always sensed her presence, and he stopped every time, hurried to the window, and pulled her in before the voice from the other room could holler “I don’t hear any practicing.”

Rey would sit in her chair, perfectly still, and watch as Ben played. Occasionally, he stopped to make notes on the lined and dotted sheets in front of him or mutter under his breath, but for the most part, he just played, glancing at her shining eyes every once in a while to wink or smile at their shared enjoyment of the music.

Rey lived for those moments.

Everything else in her life faded into forgotten unimportance, her dirty solitude, her miserable loneliness, Plutt’s stinking, steaming breath when he bawled angrily at Rey and the others. The run-down hopelessness of the orphanage where she existed in pure survival mode...

Rey adored Ben, and she was able to pick up on quite a bit from his hushed explanations. She remained very quiet, but watchful.

Noting her intense interest, Ben whispered to her about the music in front of him, what the dots and squiggles meant, the names of the composers and the pieces he played. After several months, Rey could follow along between the music he played and the sheets in front of him.

After each visit, Rey returned to the orphanage with the secret of her friend glowing in her heart, along with a renewed determination to stealthily explore the old piano in the attic a bit more. She tried to clean off the old keys with rags she had scavenged, mourning over the condition of the half-rotted wood and out-of-tune strings. It was so out of tune as to be virtually unplayable, so Rey also spent many hours with her ear held to her little handheld radio, listening to the classical music station she’d discovered.

After hearing familiar music on the radio a few times – _Ben played that one the other day_ – she started keeping track of songs and composers she liked in a tiny, cheap notebook she’d stolen from Plutt’s office.

It was lonely work, but she liked it. The other orphans kept away from her unless to occasionally bully or belittle. Mostly she kept well away from everyone, too, as best she could.

The music and her notebook and the voices on her radio became her only friends. Them, and _Ben_.

 

After a few months of visiting him, she shyly brought out her notebook, to show him her careful notations.

“This is great, Rey!” Ben whispered as he looked at it. “You like the good stuff. The dark stuff.”

Rey didn’t know what he meant by that, but he continued, “Beethoven, Rachmaninoff, Mozart, Wagner, Berlioz…all the bad boys…”

“Bad?” Rey whispered in concern.

“Well, their music is great, even if their personal lives were a bit of a clusterfu– “

“Ben! I don’t hear practicing!” The voice from the other room yelled. This happened occasionally if Ben paused for too long.

“God!” Ben raged. “I’m fucking writing some fucking notations!” he bellowed in reply.

“Hey! Language!” yelled the voice, completely unperturbed.

“Won’t he come in here?” asked Rey nervously.

“Nah, he says I need to be alone to ‘meditate on my technique,’” Ben muttered. Seeing the worry in her eyes, he amended, “but I like it when you’re here, it helps.”

 

As summer approached, Rey became even more eager to visit her friend. Lighter days and warmth meant it would be easier for her to sneak over to Ben’s and sneak back without having to explain rain-soaked uniforms and muddy shoes.

And Ben was teaching her lots of things, now. It was making sense. And it was like food to her. Rey realized she would rather learn about music than eat. No, she _needed_ music more than she needed to eat.

Music and Ben, were all she needed.

One sunny day, Rey approached the window as she always did, but instead of hearing Ben’s music, she heard raised voices. She cautiously peeked over the windowsill and saw Ben arguing with another man. The other man’s voice sounded like the mysterious “Uncle Luke.”

Rey crouched down and listened.

“Ben! You know we’ve discussed this before," Luke was saying calmly.

“Yeah, like anyone gives a shit about my feelings – You aren’t even my fucking parent, why do you get a say?” Ben swore a lot when he was upset.

Rey didn’t mind, she heard lots of swears at the orphanage, although she rarely had the nerve to swear herself. She liked it when Ben swore around her because she knew he was treating her like an almost grown-up, not a little kid.

“I’m your guardian. Your mother –”

“Don’t you mean warden?” Ben spat the words.

“Your mother is almost finished with her tour in Italy, and she wants you back in the States before she gets home.”

“Well, she won’t even fucking be there, so why do I have to go back?”

“Ben, the lease on this place is up tomorrow, and we’re going back to New York in the morning. You’ve known this was the plan all along. That’s the end of it.”

Uncle Luke’s voice was firm and laced with frustration.

None of what Luke said made sense to Rey, but she could tell it was devastatingly upsetting to Ben. Rey didn’t know what to do. She stayed crouched under the window and listened to the increasingly enraged voices of Ben and Uncle Luke.

“This _isn’t_ the end of it! I’m _not_ going back there!” Ben shouted, and Rey heard a smash. “I’ve got some-. I want to stay here.” His voice became almost pleading.

“Ben.” Luke said quietly. “Legally you have no choice. We fly home tomorrow.”

“ _Fuck_ this! I’m out of here!” Rey heard another, louder smash and stomping footsteps through the house. She heard the front door open and slam shut. More stomping footsteps echoed around the corner to where she hid.

Rey saw Ben marching past her hiding spot under the window and whimpered.

Because she knew what was happening now. _Ben_ was going away.

She’d never see him again. Or listen to his music. Or watch him smile or wink or just be there with her, a lonely companion in her lonely existence. It crushed her, and all she could do was crouch in the hedges and try to breathe. Her chest ached from the pain of it.

Ben was ten steps away from her, muttering under his breath when he looked over and saw her huddled there.

He turned his face away as if to keep walking, then ran a hand through his unruly hair in frustration and swirled around.

He approached cautiously as if she were a wounded animal and he didn’t want to scare her. Crouching down, he whispered, “Hey.”

Rey could only look at him with huge, wet eyes. She was sucking air into her chest in shaky breaths as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She knew if she spoke, she would cry her heart out and then die. She sat very still, except for her wretched breathing.

“Rey. Listen.”

“You’re going to leave.” She stated it plainly, wishing with all her heart he would deny the words.

“I… have to.”

His dark eyes reflected her own distress, and at that moment Rey felt again the kindred spirit of _my friend Ben_.

He didn’t want to, but he had to leave. _He is leaving me alone._

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” He said it as if it were true, even though he was almost a grown-up, and she was just a kid.

Rey felt her heart crack in half as the full realization of her loss struck her.

The friend who welcomed her in and let her exist in shared camaraderie, who swore her presence helped, who liked the same things, the same songs – the friend who taught her about music – was leaving.

Ben never told her she was stupid or ugly. He never laughed at her or called her a freak when she chatted about Mozart or Chopin or piano. Ben never threatened to hit her because she was dirty or late or in the way.

He reached out his hand and Rey was suddenly hugging him around his neck, sobbing with all the sadness in her heart, her grubby hands clinging to his t-shirt, utterly broken.

Ben carefully wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. She felt a few shudders go through him, and after a minute, Rey realized tears were streaking down his face, too.

Ben was crying, saying something to her. Telling her he didn’t _want_ to leave.

“Here.” He said, pulling something out of his pocket as if inspired. “I don’t have the charger for it right now, but if you can find one, you can listen to music whenever you want on this, okay?”

Rey blinked up at him as he pressed a shiny, black object into her hand. There were cords coming out of it. Earbuds, she realized. He was giving her something to remember him by. Rey blinked solemnly at him.

“I. Have to get going, Rey.” Ben looked like going was the last thing he wanted, but Rey knew his uncle would probably come looking for him soon.

She wanted to hug him again, but it hurt her heart too much. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and pulled her most treasured possession out of her pocket.

The edges were frayed, and the cover was held by a thin scrap, almost coming off. It was just a stupid little notebook, pages held by a crooked spiral wire at the top and the word “Memo” in black print on the corner of the bright green cover.

The blue lines on the pages had faded a bit. Across the front, Rey had carefully penned her name in childish block lettering.

Her notebook of all her favorite music was only half filled up and her handwriting wasn’t great.

She was sure she’d spelled things wrong because she had to spell them from listening on the radio.

Some of the words weren’t even in English, but she’d always tried her best to sound out the letters as best she could and carefully record them in her book.

She pressed it into his large hand and watched his eyes as he realized what it was.

“Rey, I can’t…this is too special to you...”

“Please keep my notebook, Ben.” Rey was never more serious in her whole life. If he didn’t keep it, it meant he wouldn’t want to keep a part of her.

She reached up and placed a small hand on his cheek.

He nodded solemnly as if he understood. He tucked her notebook into his pocket and gripped her arm gently in farewell.

She could see in his eyes he was sad and sorry before he finally stood and walked away.

 _Maybe Ben will keep my special notebook and think of me, too,_ she thought, clutching his iPod tightly in her hand.

_Maybe it will remind him we might still be friends. Someday._


	3. Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in D Major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dress rehearsal the day before Rey’s big performance. Kylo Ren makes an appearance and wants his violin back.

_“Music is unanimously compelling. As an act of creation, it becomes the embodiment of human emotion and our full capacity to express those emotions._

_A wise man once said music is an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together... Music is the universal language, and, like language, is grounded and constrained by the real world. Thus, the act of creating music must be logically limited by physicality, the corporeal world._

_In other words, music is limited by our ability to express it physically and, after it has been transcribed, it is limited by the abilities of those who come after to correctly interpret our original intent...”_

_– Maestro Luke Skywalker_

 

**Present Day**

Rey would never forget Luke Skywalker’s first lecture to her. At the time, she had been so awed by his presence and his intense blue-eyed gaze, she thought she wouldn’t be able to listen to a thing he said. But, strangely, she remembered every word from the rainy Monday afternoon in Luke’s studio at the orphanage.

 _Luke is still quite the purist_ , she reflected, _and still a damn good teacher_.

“Again. Last time.” Luke said patiently from the podium, lifting his arms to the orchestra, making eye contact with the First Violin. All eyes followed his baton as it dropped into a steady tempo. The opening strains of Tchaikovsky’s _Violin Concerto in D Major_ flowed through the performance hall at Lincoln Center.

Rey, momentarily distracted by her memories, almost, _almost_ came in late, lifting her violin to her shoulder in the nick of time to begin her solo.

It was dress rehearsal and Rey was all nerves. Tomorrow evening she would debut as a soloist with the New York Philharmonic. Tremendous excitement to perform and dread simultaneously filled her.

_Don’t muck it up and demolish your career as a concert violinist._

With this thought, Rey played confidently through the cadenza of the first movement, showing off a series of fast runs with ease, even though Luke’s tempo pushed the limits of the orchestra.

 _He always pushes, but never takes it too far_ , Rey reminded herself as her fingers danced over the bridge and her bow skipped over the strings.

The second movement was somewhat of a reprieve for Rey, much gentler than the first, and allowing her to show off the smooth, warm tones of her newly acquired violin. It had just legally become hers that very morning. A real Stradivarius.

Sweet, melting melody rolled throughout the hall as Rey gazed down in wonder at the gorgeously glowing instrument she played, and Rey allowed her training to take over.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she noted the rest of the orchestra playing quite well, except for one slight moment where an oboe came in late – _Finn will catch hell for that later_ – but Rey quickly refocused her attention as the third movement approached.

Playing one of the most difficult violin concertos ever composed, Rey concentrated fully, sinking into an almost meditative state, pulling the bow across the strings forcefully, deliberately. Muscle memory took over after hours, days, and even years of practice combined with her own interpretation of the music.

 _Find the balance. Stick to the score_ , Luke’s voice said in her head.

Parts of her were aware of Luke’s conducting, arms flung wide, baton flickering a fabulous, flawless tempo, hands rushing them all into the final movement with the perfectionism and intensity only a truly talented conductor can master.

Other sections of the orchestra faultlessly filled in to support her melody as the music began the final climb to its climax.

Rey felt connected to every part of the moment. She focused on the slight weight of her violin, a living thing in her arms, and the faintest whiff of rosin whispering off her bow as she slammed it down on the strings, bringing her fingers almost painfully down near the bridge as her calloused fingertips flew over the fingerboard.

The heat from the stage lights warmed her and she ignored it. She was sweating now, as the piece required her to bow smoothly but weightily into the finale, almost crunching down on the strings as they vibrated with reckless fervency. Nevertheless, she maintained perfect control and executed the final notes with a precise flourish.

At the end, there was no thunderous applause, as it was a closed dress rehearsal. The music hung in the air like light floating on dust motes in a still, sunny room.

_This. This is what I was meant for. This is what I was born to do._

Luke gave a wide, satisfied smile and simply said, “Excellent rehearsal, everyone. Finn, if I could have just a moment. I’ll see the rest of you all tomorrow night. Rest up!”

As the rest of the orchestra shuffled sheet music and instruments offstage, Rey carefully brought her violin and bow down, holding them confidently, but cautiously. It still amazed her that she was playing a Stradivarius worth well over three and a half-million dollars.

She was not sure she would _ever_ be entirely comfortable owning something of such value, but, although recently acquired, she already loved it like a child.

As the stage emptied of everyone but Rey and Luke, their eyes met and he winked at her.

“You’re ready for this. That was an amazing rehearsal.”

Luke stepped down from the maestro’s podium and walked to the end of the stage to confront a shamefaced Finn, hovering just offstage.

Rey smiled and pressed her lips together, not wanting to interrupt what was surely a mild scold between Luke and the oboe player.

A minute later, Finn grinned up at Luke, caught Rey’s eye with a wave goodbye and hastened backstage, leaving Luke to turn and approach Rey with a sigh.

Rey, wanting to fill in the silence, commented, “This is an amazing violin. I can’t believe you gave it to me.”

“It was my father’s, then mine for a while. Now I want you to have it.” He said it simply, but Rey knew he was sincere.

“Thank –”

A loud crash offstage interrupted Rey’s words. Followed by one of the most unexpected moments of her life.

Rey and Luke turned at the same time to the source of the noise.

Luke jumped forward a breath faster than Rey, calling out, “Is everything okay? Anyone hurt? What happ-”

His questions cut off abruptly as a very tall, very dark, very angry person appeared from the back of stage left. The man moved so quickly he knocked over a music stand, as he aggressively approached Luke. The stage lights had been lowered and Rey found it difficult to glimpse the intruder’s face from across the stage. Still, a sense of uncomfortable foreboding washed over her.

“Well, if it isn’t _Kylo Ren_.” Rey had never heard Luke’s voice sound like that before, cold and furious, not at all like the humble, generous tutor she had known most of her life. He practically sneered at the advancing newcomer.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Ice and authority infiltrated Luke’s tone. Rey felt a chill run up her spine.

 _Kylo Ren. Oh, God, this cannot be happening._ Rey felt sick to her stomach. She knew exactly who this was, and why he was so aggravated.

 _“Uncle Luke.”_ The voice hissing back at them was unmistakably laced with enmity. But something else overwhelmed Rey beyond even the hostility snapping through the air.

Ben, _her Ben_ was back.

And standing right in front of her spitting fire...

He stepped forward to within arm’s reach of Luke.

“I’m _here_ for my fucking _inheritance_ ,” he spat with such venom, Rey visibly flinched.

Ben, or Kylo Ren, as Luke had called him, turned the full force of his malevolent glare to Rey, stretched out an arm, violently stabbed his finger at her, and barked, “That violin. It belongs to _me_.”

She had envisioned his face frequently over the years, and she often wondered how much of her imagination had distorted him from the reality of what would be his actual adult appearance. She realized she had managed to carry a fairly accurate memory of Ben’s face in her mind.

Although he was no longer a boy, the aristocratic, vulnerably expressive features were exactly as she remembered, from the angles and planes of his high cheekbones and dramatic jawline and chin, to the beauty marks, the large nose, and full red mouth.

But, Ben’s eyes had always been kind, if a bit sorrowful, in her memories.

She remembered thinking vaguely her friend Ben was pretty, once upon a time, but the man before her now was _beautiful_.

For one thing, his ridiculously full lips prevented his countenance from appearing completely sinister. He had grown into his large feet and hands, towering over her and Luke, and Rey guessed he was now at least six-three. His inky dark hair hung in waves around his face, grown longer and fuller than she remembered it, and his shoulders had filled out to an almost impossible breadth, stretching the fabric of what looked to be a luxurious black sweater under a black wool coat.

He looked threatening and expensive and ruthless and powerful…and masculine. Her stomach fluttered at the thought and she tried to banish it.

His eyes snapped to Rey’s, and she gasped. Although it had been well over a decade since she’d seen him in person, Rey had _never_ personally been the recipient of Ben’s irritation. His gaze fixed on her, radiating raw hatred and _hurt_.

In all the loneliest moments of her life, Rey’s fondest activity had been to remember her friend, _Ben_ , with the kind, soulful eyes, smiling or winking at her as he played his piano while she worshipped him from her spot on the chair next to him.

Now those eyes, black with ire and stoked to a burning intensity, bored into hers like twin laser beams.

She almost took a step back, but years of training herself not to be intimidated by _anyone_ kept her feet firmly in place. Whatever had happened to _her_ Ben, whatever had occurred to change him into this angry stranger before her, she would not be daunted by him.

She could tell the moment he recognized her because his face froze into an imperceptible mask, except for a slight twitch under his left eye.

Instantly, all the momentum of his anger seemed swept away and replaced by a confused kind of …joy? Wonder? Astonishment?

And he murmured softly, “It _is_ you.”

Rey, still reeling from the sudden change in emotional current, clutched her violin protectively to her chest.

She lifted her chin, held his eyes with hers, and managed to say evenly, “It’s me. It’s been a long time, _Ben_.” She put an intentional edge to his name and held his stare.

She had not seen Ben since she was eight years old, but she had heard everything she needed to know about him and had nothing further to say.

He stared at her for so long Rey felt as if she were the only person in the room. Luke, next to her, radiated a chilly scorn, but Rey’s eyes remained locked on Ben’s and she would not back down first.

Rey felt weak in the knees just from looking at him. But she didn’t yield. Finally, Ben turned his attention back to Luke.

 _Ben’s Uncle Luke. From London._ Rey thought, but she would unpack the complex relationship later.

“You can expect to hear from my lawyers on this. _Tomorrow_ ,” Ben growled. “The provenance and legacy of that Stradivarius is clear. You can’t just give it to an outsider. It belonged to my grandfather, and according to _his_ will, it stays with _his_ blood.”

Ben’s anger had abated somewhat after he’d recognized Rey, but the echoes of it still hung conspicuously around them.

He flickered one more glance over Rey, hesitated as if he might say something else to her, then abruptly turned and strode offstage.

Rey, frozen in place, heard the light smack of the doors leading offstage, another small crash, and only then did she turn to Luke after she knew Ben had left the building. Luke regarded her curiously.

“You know him?” Luke asked carefully. “You _knew_ him as Ben?”

Rey let out a huge breath and said, “Yep. _Before_ he became such a ginormous asshole.”

And she promptly burst into tears.


	4. Rachmaninov, Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo waits for Rey and recalls the day he left London. 
> 
> He listens to Rachmaninov, Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor while he waits.

_“Your physical talent, mixed with the intangible ability required to interpret and express deep emotion through the instrument, must be grounded in technique, and the application of form, practice, repetition, theory, and method. Therefore, if you are to train with me, you will practice every day.”  - Maestro Luke Skywalker_

 

Kylo Ren was used to getting his way in all things, and he had no problem doing whatever he wanted in the moment, despite how others might think of him. If it meant stormy personal confrontations or the occasional smashing and breaking of whatever happened to be under his hands at the time…that was just fine with him.

He had learned at a young age the world would chew him up and spit him out without a second glance, so he had no problem following his own dictates. Which is why, after he stormed out of Lincoln Center, he did _not_ leave and immediately call his lawyer, as he’d threatened to Luke, but instead opted to wait in his parked car until Rey came out of the building.

He waited for over an hour, confident she would emerge eventually. He wondered if he would be able to intimidate her into just giving his violin to him. He was not sure if he would actually try to grab it from her hands, but he was definitely sure he wanted to see her again.

 _I can’t believe it’s_ her, he thought.

When he had slammed his way into the rehearsal, frightening the hell out of the stage manager _Threepio, I think his name was? -_ Kylo’s rage had been palpable.

Just an hour before, his lawyer called him with an update about the Strad and informed him his uncle had legally transferred the instrument to someone else that morning. Kylo’s own mother, as co-owner, added to that particular treachery by signing a release, agreeing to the transfer.

As his lawyer droned on about provenance, inheritance laws, the value of the instrument, blah, blah, blah, Kylo could only think of this as yet another betrayal by his so-called loved ones.

_Why am I even surprised?_

He viciously realized how right he had been to cut himself away from his toxic family, as they had apparently never cared enough to fight for _him_ , let alone allow him to keep what rightfully belonged to him. Instead, they’d awarded his grandfather’s Strad to –

“A nobody,” his lawyer had opined scornfully, “a back-alley, gutter rat orphan from nowhere. She’s a complete non-entity.” The man had sounded incredibly aggrieved.

Kylo winced uncomfortably, now that he knew the so-called “gutter rat” was Rey. She was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt.

However. That violin was _his_.

Kylo’s lawyers would have a fight on their hands. Rey’s involvement added a layer of complication to the issue, but he fully intended on getting his Strad back, no matter what.

He wanted it, and he would get it. Period.

Night fell over the city and it grew cold as he waited. Kylo wondered if perhaps Rey had left the building another way and he’d missed it. But it wouldn’t make sense for her to exit through the main concert hall at the front of the building.

He slipped on his leather driving gloves to warm his hands in the growing chill. He could be patient. Usually. Sometimes.

As he waited, his mind drifted to London, when he’d first met Rey …

 

**London, years ago**

Ben hated practicing.

He did it grudgingly, because he didn’t have anything else to do, and because part of him wanted his Uncle to pay attention to him if was being completely honest with himself.

And if he were being really, really honest, he thought maybe if he was just _good_ enough, if he just did what everyone wanted him to do with his talent, then maybe they would love him enough to spend some time with him for a change...

But he couldn’t dwell on that thought. It sounded so pathetic, so desperate. Craving mommy and daddy’s attention was something a sad little boy would do.

He needed to try to learn what he could from his uncle, a world-class musician in his own right, just as famous as Leia.

Then he would eclipse the pain of abandonment with fame, and be like his grandfather, instead.

But Luke’s way of teaching was with drills, and scales, and practice, and it was sooo _boring_ …and Ben had so many ideas.

Practice sucked, and Luke strictly required Ben to follow his training regime.

“You need to follow the score, Ben,” Luke told him patiently time and again. “You need to let go of your anger and reach out with your feelings to find a peaceful state of mind. Meditate on technique, and the rest will come.”

The regime was based on Luke’s early training in the Kenobi method, which emphasized a balance between technique and flair.

“Theory in the morning, then three hours of piano practice every day. You will need to focus and meditate, no distractions. Then we will practice violin. You have too much potential to waste, Ben, the kind of talent that comes along maybe once in a century…and I promised your mom I would help,” Luke coaxed.

Ben submitted to Luke’s schedule because he hadn’t really had much of a choice. And he _liked_ the piano.

He liked the thunderous charges up and down the keys, the way he could pound on it rudely as an outlet for his emotions, even if Luke did constantly admonish him for not maintaining a peaceful state of mind.  A piano was a sturdy thing, it could take a beating, the blunt force of untamed music, or it could be caressed, delivering the softest, purest notes to pierce a soul with sadness.

Ben felt less awkward when he played piano, where his large hands and body fit the instrument. He was good at piano and it suited his mood…even as he always felt drawn to the violin, but for different reasons. Ben’s grandfather had been a world-famous violinist in his day.

Still, Ben inwardly rebelled against the structure of Luke’s tutelage, hating the monotony. All he wanted was to unleash whatever it was inside of him and just _play_. Nobody understood him, and nobody gave two shits about his desperate loneliness, frustration, and anger.

He felt like his whole life was a leaky boat, unmoored, swept further and further out to stormy seas.

Ben’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew who it was.

 _Snoke, again_. He let it go to voicemail, knowing Snoke’s message would be the same as always.

 _You should take me up on my offer, boy, I can show you things you would never learn from your pathetic, has-been uncle._ _Say the word and I’ll get you money, a lawyer, whatever you need._

Snoke had been trying to recruit Ben for years, sending letters, voice calls, even having messages delivered via courier to him in New York when his parents were away.

 _Which is all the fucking time,_ Ben thought bitterly. He had always felt this vague sensation of being watched, stalked almost, but he knew nobody would ever take him seriously if he mentioned it. Certainly not his family.

Ben had been tempted to take Snoke up on his offer many times over the years, but he always stopped just short of doing it.

While his mother was on tour in Europe, Ben stayed with Luke in London at Ben’s grandmother’s house. And the calls became more persistent.

He was seriously considering giving in to Snoke, until one day Ben made the unlikeliest of friends.

He noticed the little girl watching him through the window while he practiced _Moonlight Sonata._ Ben didn’t mind the intrusion, although he was never terribly fond of an audience.

An audience was an entity beyond his control. It made him feel self-conscious. Maybe even shy. Nonetheless, he knew if he wanted to become great, like his grandfather, he would have to figure out a way to get over his stage fright.

However. Ben didn’t feel as if the girl was doing any harm. She was different. He sensed something from her, too, a genuine curiosity and even better, true admiration, which made his teenage ego preen just a bit.

And so, he’d done the only sensible thing in the moment, an impulse that would change the course of his life.

Bringing Rey into the room was rebellious and disrespectful to Luke, but Ben didn’t care; over the course of the next few months, he would find in her a person who loved music the same way he did. She was a friend, a kindred spirit. Like a little piece of sunshine, her admiration of him warmed his lonely heart and soothed his tempestuous thoughts.

He figured she lived nearby, but she never spoke of it. Instead, she deflected his gentle questions about her home life with her own inquisitive remarks. Her interest in music and quick mind became immediately apparent. Ben instantly recognized her talent for learning.

And so, he taught her what he could, in whispers, so his uncle wouldn’t hear.

He knew Luke would never be truly angry at Ben for his rebellion or the girl’s presence, but Ben didn’t want to see the disenchantment in Luke’s eyes, another layer of disappointment added to the growing pile of ways he’d fucked up.

Ben just wanted to be himself without feeling judged for it. And he felt Rey was a secret he didn’t want to share. Rey was the only person in his life who looked at him and saw just _him_. She didn’t care when he cursed, or when he felt moody. She always looked at him with those clear hazel eyes, wiser than their years, and simply _listened_.

He knew Rey felt the same way. And to feel _seen_ and _heard_ by another soul, without judgment or agenda, was a balm on the scars of his past failures.

Which is why when Luke told him they were going back to New York, Ben felt he would be leaving a bit of his soul behind. That day, when he left Rey crying in the street next to the row house in London, had been one of the worst of his life. When she placed her hand on his cheek, her warm little palm might as well have cut into his face and left a scar. That moment seared into his brain and it would never leave him, ever.

In a lifetime of pain and rejection, the most painful thing that had ever happened to him was having to leave her behind.

He didn’t look back when he walked away because if he did he would have grabbed her hand and run away. And what about her family? She had to belong to someone, didn’t she? He didn’t even know her last name or anything about her…

He knew it would be best if he left and never looked back. The little notebook she had given him burned in his pocket.

He would call Snoke. He would take Snoke up on his deal and do things _his_ way. He would become an even greater virtuoso than his grandfather had been, more talented than Luke, more famous than Leia.

And he would do it without their help. Then, and only then, he would never feel this powerless again.

 

Kylo’s thoughts froze in their tracks as he watched the side door open and _her_ step outside. She held a violin case, and Kylo felt a momentary annoyance that she would be out and about the streets of New York City carrying an instrument worth millions.

What if she got mugged? Or hit by a taxi?

He watched her pull a lumpy scarf over her face, partially covered by a matching lumpy beanie. She hefted the strap of the case over her shoulder and walked along the sidewalk. Her trajectory would bring her right to him.

He started the engine of his car, drawing her attention from the icy sidewalk to the sleek lines of his black SUV. She looked up and did a double-take when she realized it was him.

He rolled down the darkly tinted window and simply said, “Rey. Stop.”

She did as if pulled by an invisible string. She turned her head and huffed, “What do you want, Ben?”

“Are you seriously walking home alone with a three-and-a-half-million-dollar violin?”

“Well…yeah. I can’t exactly afford an armed guard.”

Kylo couldn’t tell if she was joking, but it sounded _almost_ like she was. She should rightfully be pissed at him for the scene he’d just made, for his veiled threats and hostility.

“I can give you a ride if you want?” The words came out more gruffly than he’d intended. He hoped she didn’t catch the note of vulnerability underneath. He hated asking anyone for anything.

If he could hypnotize her into doing what he wanted, he would have done so without a second thought. At that instant, the only thing in the world he wanted was to get her into his car. He had no idea what he would do after that. His plan to somehow commandeer his violin from her went straight out the window the second she returned his gaze.

 

Rey hovered for a moment. It was freezing cold, and she had a twelve-block walk back to her tiny apartment through a sketchy neighborhood. Something in his eyes scared her just a bit. Still left over from his temper an hour ago, his unspoken threats and a general air of betrayal hung between them.

“I promise I’ll be nice.”

And as he said the words, his eyes flickered over her bundled up form, landing just for a moment on the violin case, before reaching her eyes.


	5. Mozart Violin Sonata No. 26 in B-flat Major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Kylo storms away, Rey has a brief chat with Luke. Luke explains his point of view. Rey leaves rehearsal and accepts a ride home from Kylo, only to be confronted with a deadly situation… Kylo takes Rey back to his hotel.

Rey emerged onto the side street about an hour after Kylo had stormed out. Her face was still red, but the tears were gone. She was deep in thought, mulling over the conversation she’d just had with Luke.

Luke had been surprisingly easy to talk to about Ben. Rey told Luke everything about meeting him in London all those years ago, and she had to admit it was somewhat satisfying to know that Luke had had no idea she’d been hanging out with Ben for months.

“But, why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” Luke said, astounded. “You were transferred to New York just shortly after we left London. You would have recognized me when we first met. Did you?”

“Well, yes, but I was so frightened that you might send me away, back to Plutt’s, if you knew. And then, weeks into our training you mentioned Ben, and you looked so sad… so, I just kept the whole thing to myself…”

“But later? You’ve known of him all this time... Leia and I talked about him over the years…” Luke was hesitant to prod but wondered what could have kept Rey from mentioning anything after all this time.

“At first, there was never a good time to mention it. After a few years, I realized that you probably wouldn’t believe me anyway, and Ben was long gone at that point – no one had heard from him in years – and well, when you heard he’d changed his name, you were so angry. I was afraid you’d…be angry at me for being friends with someone who had hurt you and Leia so much.” Rey admitted the full truth, feeling much better now that things were out in the open.

Luke’s eyes lit as he realized something. “That’s where you learned a bit about music, isn’t it…from Ben?”

Rey nodded. “He taught me the different notes and the basics of music theory. There was an old piano at the orphanage that I would practice on…I would listen to the song on his iPod and try to recreate it…”

“iPod?” Luke interrupted.

Luke looked positively gob-smacked when Rey admitted that Ben had given her his iPod during their last goodbye.

“That was a Christmas present from me! I yelled at him for losing it on the plane on the way back to New York…” Luke looked sheepishly at Rey.

“That iPod got me through some rough times,” Rey mused. “I’m sorry if Ben got in trouble, but I’m not sorry he gave it to me if I’m being honest.”

Luke’s clear blue eyes were wells of understanding. He nodded agreeably. “Well… I suppose that was the least of Ben’s problems at the time…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know we went back to the States after you two said your goodbyes…and two days later, Ben filed for emancipation.”

“What?” Rey was incredulous. “I didn’t realize things had broken down between you so quickly.”

“Yeah. He decided he didn’t want to follow his mom’s rules anymore, being stuck with me most of the time…so, he got himself a lawyer and became legally emancipated. I think he’d been planning it for a while. He was just seventeen.”

Luke’s eyes, usually so clear and open, were now clouded with regrets as he remembered. “It was so hard on Leia. She was just finishing up a world tour at the time – you know how famous she used to be, and still is – but the bad publicity basically killed her career. ‘Deadbeat Opera Mom’ stuff in the headlines, y’know?” Luke shook his head sadly. “We just. Kind of let him go.”

“What about his father, where was he in all of this?” Rey couldn’t help asking. She’d had a vague idea of what had happened over the years from growing up at Eternal Hope, with Luke and Leia so involved in her life. But, Ben’s father had never really been mentioned.

“His father actually agreed Ben should be emancipated. I think Han just didn’t know what to do with his own kid and kept hoping someone else would step in and take charge. Ben’s talent…well, I’d never seen anything like it before. Until you came along.” Luke smiled at her and continued.

“Leia did her best, but she was always gone, traveling, living the life of opera royalty. She tried to get me to pitch in where I could, but … I don’t know anything about kids, especially angry teenagers... I was just an old bachelor stuck in my ways…”

Luke looked at Rey apologetically, trying to confirm he’d done the best he could for his nephew, even if it hadn’t been good enough. “And Ben was always so…temperamental.”

Rey nodded in agreement, remembering the frequent moody outbursts towards his uncle during her visits all those years ago. And more recently, his outburst less than an hour ago.

“So, then what happened to him?” Rey asked tentatively.

“To Ben? From what we could piece together, he changed his name and moved to Russia. None of us – his family – had heard from him for a few years. He ended up going one of the best music schools in the world over there, joined a chamber group - The Knights of Ren - played the violin for a while, then became a famous concert pianist. Traveled all over Asia, Europe, and the Middle East…And he never forgave us for giving up on him…so he stayed away.”

“And now he’s back for my Stradivarius.” Clutching her violin to her chest, Rey understood Ben’s reaction more than most would have. He _would_ want the one thing in the world that he felt belonged to him, that connected him in some way to his ancestry … even if he didn’t play violin anymore, he would want the consolation of knowing that someone in his family, his grandfather, would have wanted him to have it. Luke nodded, recognizing Rey’s trepidation about owning someone else’s family heirloom.

“That violin belongs to you, now, legally _and_ morally,” Luke said emphatically. “The first time you played it, do you remember?”

Rey nodded, remembering the first time Luke offered it to her to “try it out.”  She had been learning violin for months, when they discovered she was gifted at it…her hands had been too small to really learn piano at the time. She had made that Stradivarius sing, gloriously. She hadn’t known then that it was one of the most valuable instruments in the world….

“Mozart, wasn’t it?” Rey asked, recalling what she’d played.

Luke nodded, eyes bright and excited. “Sonata Number 26 in B-flat Major.” Luke recalled, “Just like Wolfgang Amadeus…he could play piano and violin at a very young age, too…I’d never seen someone do what you did. You just picked it up and played…as if you belonged to it. And you do. And, so it belongs to you.”

Rey remembered. It was as if that instrument had been made to fit her hands.

She loved it.

She decided then and there that she would fight to keep it. That violin may have been part of Ben’s past, but it was her future. _Hers_.

“Well, you should get home and get some rest. You have a big night tomorrow,” Luke reminded her, gently interrupting her reverie.

“Yes. Well, good night,” Rey hesitated, “and thank you…for everything…”

She packed her things and went outside into the chilly air, bracing herself for a long walk through the city.

She was thinking about Ben when he’d confronted her from his car and offered her a ride home.

 

_“I promise I’ll be nice.”_

Rey felt an odd twisting sensation at his words. This was not the Ben she remembered, not with those eyes. This Ben’s eyes seemed to compel the breath from her even as his veiled intentions should have terrified her...

His face was a ghost from her past but harsher now, somehow. Rounded out from the lanky awkwardness of youth, his face was chiseled and just slightly careworn as if the years between them had carved inexplicable pain into the beautiful features. He was … damaged somehow.

She watched him, watched as he did that thing with his mouth that he always did when he was thinking. He pushed air through his lips, pressing them together, sucking the corners of his mouth into his cheeks, and then pulling them in and rolling his mouth from side to side, as if he were rolling a marble around with his tongue, ending in a brief purse of his lips.

That unconscious movement made the decision for her. Her earlier hesitation faded as she realized that this was still _her Ben_. A darker, more complicated version, but still _hers_. Even if he’d been awful to his family and to her just an hour ago, she trusted him.

Rey marched around to the passenger side of his sleek black SUV before he could hop out and open the door; he leaned over from the driver’s seat and pushed open the passenger door from the inside, so she could climb into the luxurious leather interior. There was a brief moment as she hefted the violin case in front of her, passing it to him before realizing the symbolism of her actions, but he simply took it and settled it in the back seat as she buckled her seat belt.

“Where to?” his eyes flickered over her again, and Rey felt a tingling sensation run lightly over her whole body, as if she were being scanned, cataloged, and appraised. But his voice was neutral and his demeanor unthreatening. Rey ignored his smoldering eyes and quietly told him her address, looking straight ahead as he maneuvered the car smoothly into evening traffic.

 

Kylo had a hard time deciding what to say to her, so they rode in silence for several blocks. The tension between them was alive, like an ungrounded electrical wire, and he could feel so many layers of emotion rolling off her, it was almost physically painful.

“Did he tell you about what happened?” Kylo finally broke the tension. “The night I left?”

Rey nodded, unsure how to answer for a moment. Then she said stoically, “I know everything I need to know about you.”

“You do?” he sounded genuinely surprised until he realized she would only know Luke’s side of the story. Her tone indicated her opinion of him was less than stellar.

He was suddenly furious and couldn’t help a sarcastic response, “Ah. You _do_.”

Kylo’s gloved hands gripped the steering wheel.

The drive to her place took far less time than walking. After a few minutes, they were there. He said nothing as he pulled up to the crumbling brownstone where Rey lived. He surreptitiously checked out the neighborhood as she tried to get her bearings. What did one say on an occasion like this? 

Kylo knew in some corner of his mind that he should try to explain he was as much of a victim as she was in this whole complicated mess, but he was momentarily distracted by an overwhelming sense of danger as he looked around the street. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he watched three shadows detach themselves from the stairwell next to Rey’s building and slowly approach the car. 

“Rey.” Kylo’s voice was urgent. “Are those your neighbors?”

“Wha?” She looked around to see three masked men approaching the SUV. She immediately knew something was wrong. “I don’t –“

She caught a glint of metal as one of the men raised an arm towards the window, smoothly moving towards them. Kylo didn’t wait for him to raise his gun all the way, taking in the situation much more quickly than Rey had.

“Get down!” He barked, stomping on the gas as the sharp twang of something thumped into the car in three rapid strikes.

_Bullets._ Someone was shooting at them. Rey crouched down in her seat as Kylo pulled away so quickly the SUV lurched, knocking her head into the dashboard. She heard three more metallic thwacks bite into the back of the car, and then nothing, as Kylo sped away and rounded a corner.

Three blocks away he slowed only a little, and continued to drive, eyes alert, hands gripping.

“Are you okay?” They both asked at the same time, Rey in a panicked voice and Kylo’s ragged with concern.

“I’m okay,” Rey breathed.

“Me too. Those guys were waiting for you,” Kylo stated.

“Ya think?” Rey was on the verge of panic. “They were going to … to kill…they were shooting!”

“Yeah, looks that way,” Kylo responded almost casually. “Looks like they were shooting to kill, too.”

“But, why - ?” Rey immediately answered her own question by glancing back to the violin in the back seat.

“How are you so calm right now?” Rey was trembling.

He didn’t answer, but continued his previous train of thought, “Someone knew you had it – the Strad -  someone was willing to wait until you got home, and kill you for it…do it in the street to make it look like a mugging…probably watched you leave Lincoln Center and get into my car…that’s how they knew it was us when we got to your place…”

Kylo’s logic emphasized that, had Rey not chosen to ride with him, she would most likely be dead in the street right now.

“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Rey was on the verge of full-blown hysteria. “What if they follow us? What if they hurt someone?” She looked frantically behind them.

Kylo’s eyes glanced at the mirrors, expertly turning a bend in the road with sharp precision. Some corner of Rey’s mind was impressed with his smooth driving at a time like this … but his next words stole her whole attention back to the moment.

“You’re coming back to my place,” Kylo spoke in terms that brooked no argument. “They probably have no idea who I am. This is a rental car. I’m staying at a hotel under an alias to avoid the media. It’ll be fine.” His eyes gave away nothing other than his desire for her to cooperate. “Rey, you can’t go back to your place right now. They might still be there. They could be waiting for you in your apartment. Those fuckers were going to gun you down in the street.”

“For a _violin_?” she shrieked. “Then I don’t want anything to do with it!” She immediately regretted the exclamation – it wasn’t true - and she didn’t miss the possessive gleam in Kylo’s eyes as she’d said it; even through the distraction in driving them to safety, he still wanted that violin.

Kylo drove on, not responding. He drove them through the city towards Central Park on the Upper West Side. He pulled up to a very posh-looking hotel and left the keys in the ignition for the valet who appeared immediately to open Rey’s door for her. She exited the SUV on trembling legs as Kylo met her and assisted her out the door. She watched him open the rear passenger door and grab the violin case from the back seat. He hesitated only a moment before handing it to her, the look in his eyes unfathomable.

Kylo wanted nothing more than to hustle her inside and get her to safety, still not totally sure they hadn’t been followed. He swept an arm around her shoulders, and they walked into the lobby. Noticing Rey’s hesitation as they approached the front desk, he said, “They have a vault here. Do you want to - ?”

She nodded. A vault was good.

She stood by mutely as the desk clerk on duty nodded enthusiastically to Kylo’s request that they place the violin into the vault. She shivered again as he had a hushed conversation with the clerk - something about “paperwork” - and then an armed security guard appeared out of nowhere to escort them.

By now, Rey was almost reeling in shock, but she managed to follow Kylo’s prompts to sign a form and follow the guard to a secure elevator. After a brief ride downstairs, they entered the vault, and Rey placed the case on a padded shelf.

Rey, keen to check on it before leaving it locked away, unclasped the hinges of the case and lifted the lid.

She heard Kylo’s breath catch behind her, as she raised the violin from the plush velvet lining and held it in both hands. She tilted it back and forth under the lights in the vault as she examined it carefully for damage.

The instrument was over three hundred years old, crafted by Antonio Stradivari just after the turn of the eighteenth century, once owned by Paganini himself, and more recently by Anakin Skywalker. Named _the Hammer Stradivarius_ , the violin had stood the test of time, with only slight wear on the varnish near the neck, where countless hands had brushed it over the centuries. The back and elegantly curved sides were a masterpiece of beauty and engineering, perfectly matched stripes of tiger’s wood gleaming in the light, reflecting light back like a hologram. The instrument was blonde in color, with light brown pegs, chinrest, and tailpiece, and black fingerboard. The purfling around the edges, the thin decorative stripes outlining the face and back, had been perfectly maintained. The _Hammer_ was undoubtedly a thing of beauty to behold. Rey carefully placed it back in its case, avoiding the possessive expression in Kylo’s eyes.

As they made their way back through the lobby to the elevators, Kylo paid extra attention to their surroundings, but the feeling of danger had passed and not returned. Slipping his key card out of his pocket, he swiped it gracefully into the elevator’s control keys, punched a button, and they glided up.

He watched Rey and could tell she was in something of a state of shock. She had been very quiet since arriving at the hotel, and the closed look on her face revealed very little. But he knew her, he could feel the tension and fear radiating from her, and while part of him wanted to go back to her house and kill the bastards who had shot at them – at her - another part felt a long-lost sense of compassion. This was _his Rey_ and she was frightened. She had been dealt several emotional blows today, not to mention the anticipation and nerves over tomorrow night’s performance that would be layered underneath. Rey was shivering, and he would stay with her until she was okay or until she asked him to leave.

The elevator doors opened with a near-silent swoosh, and he put an arm around her shaking shoulders and led her into his suite.


	6. Camille Saint-Saëns Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Rey enjoys a long, hot shower, Kylo calls in a favor.

The first thing Rey noticed when she stepped out of the elevator was that she was walking directly into a suite, not a landing area with multiple doors leading to other rooms as she would have expected. It occurred to her that even one night in a suite like this would cost thousands upon thousands of dollars in an expensive city like New York.

She tried not to gape at the quiet opulence of the wealth around her, but she was nevertheless impressed by the immaculately gleaming marble floors, quietly elegant tones of the room, beautiful furniture, and the gorgeous flower arrangements on every available surface. Blood red roses and stargazer lilies added a heady fragrance to the space.

_Ben certainly looks like he belongs here_ , mused Rey. She felt distinctly shabby, standing next to him.

Although she lived in a world where it was not uncommon for her to be surrounded by musical instruments varying in worth from expensive sports cars to a typical five-bedroom house in the suburbs, Rey’s own modest – if not poor – existence in the city did not generally expose her to lavish displays of wealth. She felt a bit out of her league in a place like this.

Kylo led her into the living room of his suite, looking unsure of himself for the first time that evening.

“Can I – can I get you anything?” He asked quietly, watching her with his weighty, bottomless gaze.

Rey wasn’t sure how to respond. Her huge hazel eyes met his in confusion. What was she supposed to do now? All she wanted was to forget this evening had happened…

Kylo seemed to understand almost immediately and took charge, propelling her towards the other side of the suite, through the double-doors of the master bedroom into the bathroom there.

Rey started to protest, “Ben, I can’t –“

“Relax,” he said quietly, “there’s another bathroom.”

He was deliberately missing the point she was trying to make. “And this one has the better shower, so you should definitely try it out.”

He smiled faintly, trying to dispel her obvious insecurity. As far as he was concerned, she was welcome to anything he had, anything at all. _And where the hell did that thought come from?_

“But I don’t even have any clothes, they’re all at…” Rey trailed off as she recalled that her home was not safe to enter, that murderous thugs could still be there, waiting for her.

Kylo intervened with that train of thought as smoothly as he could. “Don’t worry. I’ll have some things sent up for you from the concierge. It’s fine.”

“But, the expense –“ she argued.

_Out of all the things she had to worry about, she chooses this_. Kylo found himself reluctantly respecting her assertation of independence. She was not used to people taking care of her.

He understood. Neither was he.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to give her everything she needed, anything she wanted, and again… _where the hell was this coming from?_

Her eyes flickered with hesitation as she saw the briefest flash of darkness cross his face, but he quickly smoothed over it. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve had a long day. You need to rest. Get in that shower, and I’ll have some clothes and things sent up. It’s really not a big deal.” He wasn’t above using his powers of intimidation to get her to do what he wanted, especially when it was best for her, but he hoped she would comply willingly. He wanted her to trust him.

Rey looked tiredly at him, then smiled. “Okay…and can I maybe get a sandwich, too?”

Kylo almost melted at the sparkle in her eye, faint but there. He would have bought her an entire deli, if she asked, if that’s what it would take to keep that look in her eyes.

But he just winked at her and said, “Sure,” as he softly closed the door.

 

Rey managed to quickly climb out of her mental despair in no small part due to the extravagant luxury that Ben had insisted she enjoy.

In the bathroom, which was half the size of her apartment, she stripped out of her coat, beanie, scarf, and layers, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor. She still felt vaguely like an imposter among the elegantly shining fixtures and expensive marble tile. However, Ben was being very kind and he seemed to want her to feel welcome.

Still in her underclothes, Rey carefully scavenged through the obviously costly bathroom toiletries with increasing delight as she found what she needed to freshen herself up. She took particular interest in the variety of hair products available, sure she had stumbled onto the secret source of Ben’s gorgeous black tresses. She snickered to herself at the thought of Ben’s hair as the secret source of his power, like Sampson from a long-forgotten Bible story.

But there was nothing Biblical about the man in the other room of the suite… unless he was the Devil incarnate sent to tempt her…

As she stripped out of her underwear, she appraised herself in the mirror. Chestnut, shoulder-length hair, hazel eyes, and a wide, clear forehead were her best features. She decided she had passably nice eyebrows, too.

She scanned the rest of her body critically. Rae was not voluptuous, nor would she ever be, but her legs and arms were long and lean, her waist slim, and as she half-turned to look at her backside, she thought her ass wasn’t half-bad. She ran her hands from her ribs down to her hips then back up to cup her breasts, pushing them together and wishing she had a bit more cleavage… _ah well_ , she thought, dropping her hands to her sides, _you can’t have everything_ …

She stepped into the gorgeously tiled shower with six sprays tilted at various angles, turned some knobs until hot water came steaming out, and groaned out loud as it hit her.

_I am never leaving this shower._

Inevitably, her mind drifted to Ben and the connection she felt to him, comparing his adult persona to her childhood remembrances. She recognized now that Ben exuded some kind of power … a raw sexuality…or animal magnetism…something dark and sensual and irresistible.

Part of her was still furious with him for his tantrum after her rehearsal, but mostly she was grateful to be alive, grateful for his help. At the end of everything, he was being extremely solicitous towards her…and she wasn’t entirely sure she deserved his kindness, especially after she had knowingly accepted _his_ inheritance as a gift from _his_ estranged family…he just wanted it back. _And, so did someone else, apparently._

Rey felt a jolt as she realized she could have been killed that night. _Breathe. You’re fine._

She forced the thought away and decided to focus on relaxing and enjoying the shower. Who knew when she would get another chance at something like this?

Rey was sure she had never had a shower this nice, the hot water soothing her aches and worries away until they were faint little echoes. She scrubbed some very expensive-smelling shampoo into her hair and marveled at the rich lather it produced. On a last-minute whim, she grabbed a fresh razor from the basket of toiletries on a shelf above the sink and proceeded to scrub and shave and generally luxuriate in the steamy spray.

She figured it would take some time for Ben to have clothes sent up for her, and she didn’t want to hang out with him while she was just in a robe…

Her mind latched onto that thought as she grabbed the hand-held spray nozzle and began to rinse the conditioner from her scalp. She turned the setting so the water came out in a concentrated, pulsating stream.

She imagined walking out to the living room of the suite, naked under her bathrobe, to find Ben sitting on the couch. He would crook his finger at her and she would walk towards him slowly, seductively. She would move to stand between his knees and watch him slowly reach up to untie her robe.

Rey moved the spray slowly down her body, bracing a hand on the shower wall in front of her.

He would lean towards her hungrily as her robe would gape open and his hands slip inside. She would feel his breath heat her skin as he softly kissed the flat planes of her stomach, the slight protrusions of her hipbones. His hands would be large and firm, grasping her hips, pulling her into him.

Rey felt desire uncurl in her belly, like liquid fire. She moved the shower spray lower until it was pounding against her right nipple.

She would lean over slightly so he could close his luscious lips around her breast, sucking softly and moaning, even as he put one arm around her waist and ran a hand down the length of her thigh.

Rey moaned lightly as she imagined his mouth pulling at the tip of her breast. She moved the spray further down until it was pulsing between her legs. She propped a leg onto the ledge of the shower and grabbed a breast with her free hand, pulling and plucking at the nipple, even as she moved the shower spray up and down over her aching sex.

Ben would flip her onto the couch and kneel between her legs, pushing her thighs open, running his hands up to caress her soft wet folds. His soft hair would feel silky against her sensitive inner thighs, and she would plunge her hands into it, holding his head as she spread her legs even further for him. He wouldn’t tease or be too gentle; he would dive right in, swiping his tongue up, licking the juices from her as if she were the most desirable thing he’d ever tasted, ending each swipe of his tongue with a gentle suck on her clit, just the way she liked it. She would be close to an orgasm in a matter of seconds.

The pulsing warmth of the shower spray was vibrating into her and Rey felt every nerve ending she had become sensitized, focused on the intense pleasure of her fantasy.

She imagined Ben’s warm mouth lapping between her legs, sucking on her with total concentration. His eyes would flicker up to hers, too, while he was doing it, so he would know when she was close, almost there. And when she was, he would slip two fingers into her and caress her from the inside even as his mouth brought her to completion.

Rey imagined he would groan into her as she came, not stopping his mouth or fingers until she was completely wrung out. That thought combined with the pulsing of the shower spray sent her right over the edge, as hot, clutching spasms of ecstasy brought her into one of the most intense orgasms of her life.

She felt the sweet, clenching release overtake her body as she rocked her hips into the streaming water and moaned.

 

Afterward, she hung the spray nozzle back into place and stood there on trembling legs, panting from the force of her release.

_Oooookay_ , Rey thought. _Now that we’ve got that out of our system…_ Her mind went to Ben, waiting for her somewhere out there in the suite.

_Let’s pretend that did not just happen_. How would she be able to look him in the eye after this?

After she had calmed herself as best she could, Rey emerged from the bathroom feeling, if not like a new woman, then at least a much cleaner one. The robe that wrapped around her was huge, as was the exquisite towel of Egyptian cotton wrapped around her head in a sloppy turban. When she stepped out of the bathroom, the door to the master suite was closed, but there was a small pile of clothes on the bed, obviously intended for her.

At some point, Kylo had come into the room and left her something to wear. It gave Rey an odd thrill to know that only the bathroom door had separated her naked self from him… what if he’d suspected what she’d been doing in the shower while he was only a few feet away?

_Stop thinking about that, Rey, s_ he told herself, even as she felt her face flush red from her forehead to her collarbones.

_He probably still thinks of you as a little kid. He definitely hates that you have the_ Hammer _, and things are way too complicated for both of you right now…_

Kylo watched Rey disappear into the bathroom with a mingled sense of relief and bewilderment. Whereas hours before he had been thoroughly outraged at her – or at least, outraged at the unknown, unworthy nobody – recipient of _his_ birthright – now he was…bemused.

The events after his earlier confrontation with Luke and Rey, particularly when gunshots were involved, eclipsed his concern over ownership of the _Hammer_ and had developed into…something else. Especially now that she was naked in his bathroom… He needed to think carefully about how to proceed.

_This is not how I thought this day was going to go…_

But first things first.

He strode out to the living room and picked up the phone from a chrome end table. The concierge immediately answered, “Yes, Mr. Adams, what can I do for you this evening?”

“A few things,” Kylo replied.

He kept his requirements short and to the point. His rental car needed to be returned – he would explain the bullet holes later – and food needed to be brought up - he specified sandwiches - and Rey needed clothes for sleeping and to wear tomorrow. As the concierge hesitated delicately as to the nature of “…sleepwear…for a woman?” Kylo paused, momentarily confounded. He forced his mind away from the thought of Rey in lingerie, but only with effort.

“Something warm and appropriate for my _sister_ ,” he emphasized, then in a flash of genius, he added, “Her luggage was lost, so she needs everything.” He guessed her size and hoped they would figure out that “everything” also meant she would need undergarments and a toothbrush. He wasn’t entirely sure what all was needed, so he just left it to them to figure out. And the thought of mentioning underwear and Rey in the same sentence would unravel him...

The confidence in the voice at the other end of the line assured him that his request was completely achievable. 

Kylo took a breath.

The next call he made was to his attorney’s office. This was more difficult than he had thought it would be when he’d made the decision five minutes ago. Nevertheless, he left a message stating that circumstances had changed and his legal pursuit of the _Hammer_ was to be postponed indefinitely. The message did not take long to leave. His lawyers were the best, and they would follow his instructions to the letter.

His final call was the one he anticipated most...

She picked up the phone after two rings, although God knew what time it was wherever she was.

“Well, well. What do _you_ want?” Phasma’s accent was cool and professional, if not a tiny bit standoffish. Kylo hoped she wasn’t in the middle of anything right now. She hated interruptions.

“I’m calling in a favor, and it’s a big one.” Kylo’s voice was clipped and to the point.

“What is it? I’m … in the middle of something … with Hux…” Kylo heard groaning in the background.

_Damn it. Those two can’t keep their hands off each other. Ah, well, I have to loop Hux in, too, so it is just as well he is there._

Out loud he said, “Ah, Hux is there? Good. I actually need both of you on this. Put me on speaker.”

“Sure." There was a slight pause. "If you need him to talk, it’s going to take a minute for me to remove the ball gag.”

_For fuck’s sake_ , Kylo thought. _Who has time for this?_   Glancing towards the doors to the master bedroom, he said, “I’ll make this quick. Just make sure he can _listen_.”

Kylo’s voice took on a dangerous edge as he explained, “A … friend and I were shot at tonight. It wasn’t random.” He continued, “They were waiting for us, they pulled guns and shot up my car. I got us away. We weren’t followed. It wasn’t any of our people, I’m positive. Whoever it was,” his patience was wearing thin, “I think they were after the _Hammer_.”

“Oh! Your Strad? You had it with you, then? So you got it back!” Phasma sounded childishly enthusiastic for him.

“Not…exactly.” _How the fuck were they straying so far from the point_?

“How do you know it wasn’t one of our people?” It was a fair question. Double-crosses were not uncommon among the people in their world.

“Because if it was, I wouldn’t be here making this call.” _And Rey would probably be dead._ Rage spiked through him at that thought.

“How many were there?” Phasma asked, suddenly all business.

“Three shooters and at least one other lookout. Might’ve had two lookouts. Their timing was _en pointe_.”

“Well, so many people want you dead, Ren, do you have any idea who it was _this time_? Or why?”

“I don’t think they were coming for me. My… friend was the target, I just happened to be with her at the time. I want those bastards _put down,_ ” Kylo growled.  

He knew Phasma wouldn’t bat an eyelash over him giving her a hit order. That was one of the reasons Kylo liked her. “Also, I need you and Hux in New York for a while… and … I need you to stay with … my friend. To keep an eye on her.”

“Your ‘friend’?” Phasma was remarkably quick on the uptake. “What, like guard her?”

“No, like… yes like guard her, but she can’t know that’s what you’re doing.”

“ _Stay down!_ ” Phasma barked aggressively, presumably at Hux. _“Did I say you could move?”_ Kylo heard the unmistakable sound of a riding crop smacking onto flesh, then Phasma’s voice directed back to him.

“Sorry. So what, you want me to guard your friend, and not let her catch on? Hmph. I must admit I’m intrigued, Ren.”

“Yes, well, she likely needs a roommate, given the current circumstances, so you could try that angle,” Kylo’s patience had slipped to the last available notch. “I need you and Hux in New York immediately.”

Kylo heard a series of grunting whines on the other end of the line, then Phasma muttering faintly, “ _Right_. _Good point, lover._ ” Kylo sincerely hoped she had just said that to Hux _..._

“So, Hux says he thinks we should take your jet,” Phasma said more clearly.

Ren inwardly rolled his eyes at the thought of those two fucking their way to New York on the Italian leather seats in his jet…but the jet was the fastest way to get them here, and he might need it later, too.

“Fine. Just don’t destroy it with … whatever kinky shit you two are into,” he said in resignation.

“We won’t,” Phasma purred.

“I want you both here tomorrow.”

“ _Fuck_. You don’t give a girl much time to prepare, do you?”

“Just get here. Take care of those guys, extract what you can from them, and stay with Rey until I say otherwise...” Ren’s patience was hanging by a thread.

“All right. See you soon.” And she hung up the phone.  

 

Kylo was glad to have finished that particular call before Rey came back out from the shower. He had been livid at the shooters, and if he hadn’t been trying to keep his cool and get Rey out of there, he definitely would have gone back and killed the bastards with his bare hands.

He had no problem with the fact that he’d just ordered a hit on four, maybe five men. Those pieces of shit deserved what they got for shooting at Rey, and Phasma would not fail him.

_Those scumbags are as good as dead, they just don’t realize it, yet._

Kylo felt a grim satisfaction at knowing those motherfuckers would pay…Phasma was not known for quick, clean killings…she really liked to make it _hurt_ …

Just then, the elevator bell rang to admit a small army of uniformed people bearing trays, boxes, and even a bottle of champagne, chilling in a bucket of ice, borne by a young man with a towel draped over his arm. At Kylo’s raised brow, the young man said, “Compliments of the hotel, Mr. Adams.”

Kylo was impressed they had been so quick – the staff must have scrambled to get everything delivered in such a short amount of time. Kylo directed them to set up their trays in the living room, sweeping the boxes of clothing from the arms of a uniformed young woman and carrying them into the master suite himself.

He entered cautiously, aware that if Rey walked in from the bathroom he would be caught in a very awkward moment indeed, as he unpacked sleepwear, underwear, toothbrush, hairbrush, slippers, and a light robe onto the bed.

The other boxes - containing jeans, leggings, several blouses, a sweater, a pair of boots, low-heeled and glamorous, a thick wool jacket, and a cocktail dress of all things - he set next to the dresser. It looked like they’d gotten her one of everything. He hoped it would be enough…and then it occurred to him that Rey was naked, just on the other side of that door.

At that moment he heard a faint, ragged groan emerge from behind the door. _Was she…doing… what it sounded like she was doing in there?_

He felt desire hit him like a shot to the gut.


	7. Elgar - Salut d’Amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey talk. Kylo reveals his point of view. A discovery is made. Kylo and Rey feel mutually betrayed.

When he heard the unmistakable sounds of Rey getting herself off in the next room, Kylo briefly entertained the idea of walking in to help her finish… But, then he instantly dismissed it.

That was _not_ what Rey needed right now. He would think about the sounds he’d overheard _later_. _When he was alone._ With an iron will, he moved the thought to the back of his mind.

Kylo had just seated himself on the sofa when Rey came into the living room. She was wearing light grey pajama bottoms and a long-john style pajama top in the same color. It looked warm and comfortable and modest, just as he’d requested.

He could see the faint outline of her nipples through the material. He’d never been so turned on. _Fuck_.

Kylo lounged on the sofa like a large cat. His long legs were crossed, an ankle over the opposite knee, his arms stretched the span of the sofa, drawing attention to the impressive expanse of his chest under his form-fitting black sweater.

_He definitely knows how to occupy a space,_ Rey mused. She felt a flutter in her stomach at the sight of him. He looked graceful, big, and dangerous.

To distract herself from that train of thought, she looked around, noticing a grand piano in the corner. _Wow_. Then her attention turned to the covered dishes on the coffee table.

“Mmm. Is that food?” Rey tore her eyes away and eagerly approached the table.

She _was_ hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and so much had happened since then. It wasn’t even nine o’clock, yet, and she felt like it was well past midnight.

“Eat up. I didn’t know what you’d like so I got some of everything.” His mouth quirked in a brief half-smile.

“I like everything,” she said happily, pulling covers off dishes and exploring the options laid out before her. It looked like every possible type of sandwich had been brought up. _Well, you did ask for sandwiches…_

After piling at least four sandwiches onto a plate, she settled herself cross-legged on the sofa opposite him.

Glancing up at his sprawling form she commented playfully, “Good heavens, Ben. You’ve grown! What have they been feeding you?”

Again, the faint half-smile appeared almost unwillingly on his face. He cocked his head towards her plate and said sarcastically, “Look who’s talking.”

Rey began unceremoniously stuffing food into her face. As Kylo watched her eat, he thought at first it was a continuation of their joke…but she showed no sign of slowing down. He watched her, transfixed and half-horrified as she ate half a ham sandwich in three bites.

She ignored his gaze and continued, “Seriously though. You’re huge. You must eat, like, three-thousand calories a day!”

“Four,” he grinned wolfishly. “I work out.”

“No kidding? What do you do? Lift small cars? Elephant wrangler?” Rey eyed his arm muscles and lifted an eyebrow, licking mustard off her thumb.

“No.” Kylo sounded almost…defensive. “I-ugh- you are going to make fun of me when I tell you.”

“Oh, yes! Shit, it must be really embarrassing! Now I have to know!” Rey’s eyes lit up like Christmas. She was bouncing in her seat.

When she smiled at him like that… _God, I’ve missed her so much_.

It occurred to him that the last time anyone had looked at him with something other than fear, annoyance, menace, or anger in their eyes was probably actually Rey herself, the day before he’d left her in London… he needed to focus on the conversation before things got out of hand…

“It’s...well, running, for one…”

“Running isn’t embarrassing. And you just said ‘for one’,” Rey pressed, “What else? Tell me!”

“Different things.” _There wasn’t a chance in hell he was mentioning some of the training he’d gone through over the years._

“OH, my God, Ben!” Rey’s eyes were practically popping out of her head with curiosity, even though she still managed to scarf down another half sandwich.

Kylo immediately regretted his attempt to impress her by mentioning his fitness routine. He should have known she would call him out and not let go until she had an answer.

“Well, now it’s been built up too much,” he said coolly, not giving away a thing.

“Please! Oh, please tell me, Ben!” Rey begged.

“I’ll never tell,” he said seriously.

She grinned at him.

_God, her smile is pretty._ And just like he knew he would, Kylo caved.

“It’s skating.”

“Oh, for _real_? You? On skates?” She actually squealed. “Oh, this I need to see! Wait! Is it like ice skating or figure skating?”

He tossed a throw pillow at her and growled darkly. “Both.”

Rey dissolved into fits of laughter behind her pillow. Apparently, the image of him wearing ice skates and gliding around the ice was hilarious. “I cannot picture it. You’re just so serious and…stern…and…” she had another laughing fit.

“It is not funny. I’ve been in Russia for over a decade. Everyone skates over there.”

Rey snorted. “So. Do you wear the red sequins or the blue?” She took an enormous bite from a sandwich and raised her eyebrows at him.

He decided to keep his mouth shut and let her eat.

Finally, after she had demolished most of the food on her plate, Rey sat back, groaned at how full she was and laced her hands over her stomach. Kylo had poured them each a glass of champagne, telling her it had been on the house, so she wouldn’t feel like he’d ordered it on purpose.

More serious now, she looked up at him saying, “We should call the police on those guys. Those guys that shot at us.”

Kylo looked at her, noting the subtle shift in the atmosphere. “I called and filed a report with the police while you were in the shower,” he lied easily. “They’ll be looking into it. I hope that’s okay?”

“Yes. Thank you for doing that.” Rey was relieved. “Will they need to talk to me?”

“I’m sure if they do, they will contact you. Try not to worry about it.” Kylo felt a twinge of conscience at lying to her. _The police won’t need to talk to you because those men are already walking corpses…_

They both fell into a long silence, each deep in thought before Rey finally said quietly, “Ben. What the hell?”

_What the hell, indeed._ He knew she wanted an explanation from him for so many things, especially his behavior earlier that evening towards her and Luke. He didn’t know where to start. So, he just started talking.

“I had no choice to leave you, you know? Luke and I flew back to New York the next day and two days later I was on a plane to Russia.”

“What happened? Why did you take off for Russia so quickly?” Rey couldn’t help feeling that if he’d stayed with his uncle they might have found each other again much more quickly… but she could sense he needed to tell her in his own way.

“We got back to New York. Luke yelled at me for losing my iPod,” he glanced at her sheepishly. “I was equally pissed at him for … everything.”

He took a deep breath, remembering.

“Anyhow, I had been invited to train at a music school in Russia. I told Luke I wanted to go… We said some pretty ugly things to each other. He told me I was being selfish and immature, and I told him his training methods sucked. Things went downhill from there. I’ve never seen Luke lose his temper before, but it’s really kind of impressive…

I smashed a few things around the apartment and then went for a walk. I forgot to take my phone. When I came back, I caught Luke looking at it. I was so angry. He’d invaded my privacy. He saw some stuff that made him think I’d been plotting against the family. He’d accused me of things I didn’t really …” Kylo’s voice drifted off.

“He said I was getting in with some very bad people, and the messages on my phone only proved that I was too immature to understand how I was being manipulated. I told him he was a fucking has-been and was just trying to control me… He swore he was trying to help me, train me in music so I could reach my full potential. But, I knew I would never trust him again, not after that. So, I hired a lawyer and filed for emancipation. And then I left for Russia. It’s not like I’d had anything to lose in New York.”

“But, what about me?” Rey asked hesitantly. “I never heard a word from you, even after I’d been transferred to the orphanage in New York. _Your_ family was around all the time…none of them had heard from you or of you for years...”

“When I arrived in Russia, I had decided to cut off all ties…” Kylo said, looking at her mournfully. “I burned all connections to my old life to the ground. Except for you. But you never answered my letters, and eventually, I gave up…”

“Letters?” Rey had not expected the conversation to take this turn. She had never received letters from him. Ever. Either he was lying, or…he wasn’t.

“Yes, letters. I had hired someone to find you in London and learned you’d been transferred…to Eternal Hope in New York, of all places…”

Rey was stunned.

“I wrote you letters for ages. Sent them to you in the care of my uncle. I never heard anything back. I assumed you'd moved or…” Kylo’s wrath had flared as he realized what had happened.

_Luke. That fucking prick_. _He’d never given Rey my letters_ …

 

Rey believed he had written to her; she felt a sense of loss at how much those letters would have meant to her.

Suddenly her hands clenched in fury as she realized what had been stolen from her by Luke, her mentor, almost a father figure. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.

Kylo was watching her out of the corner of his eyes, feeling each emotion she felt, as they both realized at the same time that something precious had been taken from them. Unchecked tears rolled down Rey’s cheeks as she had no other outlet for her anger.

“I need you to take me to Luke’s.” Rey’s voice was commanding, austerely threatening. “I’m going to kick his ass.”

Kylo knew she wanted to confront Luke over this fresh and painful injury. Kylo was equally furious. But that was in the past, and the past was dead. Dredging it up would not help Rey right now. So, he simply shook his head and said, “Tell me about the _Hammer_.”

“Where do I even start?”

Kylo hesitated. “Start at the beginning. What happened after I left? How did you end up in New York?”

**London, Years Ago**

Rey cried every night for ages after Ben left. The day after, she had to sneak over to the thrift shop next door and prowl through every corner of the store in search of a charger that would power the iPod.

After a few hours of near desperate searching, she finally found one, stashed behind some old coffee cups. It was white, and the cable was dinged up, but she could tape it and it would work great.

She kept her face calm as she quietly slipped it into her pocket and headed out of the shop.

Finally, she would be able to listen to Ben’s music…

She had remembered watching Ben hold this iPod so many times…

She had been surprised the first time she listened to the music on it because some of it wasn’t piano music at all. In fact, some of it, she would later realize, would have been considered quite inappropriate for a child…but Rey loved all of it, from the smooth drowsy jazz to the angsty alternative rock, from the rage-filled metal to the thunderous orchestral, and especially the strangely poignant violin concertos.

But her favorite was “Ben’s music.” The piano concertos full of angst and passion and remorse and galloping rhythms met with wandering melodies. Sometimes, Rey would lie awake on her grubby mattress under the scratchy blanket and wait until everyone was asleep and lie there and listen for hours.

Between Ben’s iPod and her near-obsession with the old piano in the attic, she had fallen into a routine, even if it meant that she was just surviving.

She woke up extra early every day to hide her treasured iPod and the headphones and charger, because she knew if any of the other kids had found out she had it, they would spill blood to take it from her…

Rey never knew the mysterious circumstances that would cause her to be transferred from the orphanage in London to the Eternal Hope Home for Children in New York City. When Plutt had told her one day that it was recently discovered one of her parents was American and had left some funds to cover her travel and transfer to an orphan’s home in New York, Rey had been unable to sleep at all.

Rey had been nervous at this news. She had never gone beyond her little neighborhood before. Beyond Ben’s house.

But, one day Rey found herself transported by bus and then plane next to a tight-mouthed lady who was traveling to New York for some kind of business; Rey was eight but she was extremely world-wise. Rey knew that keeping her mouth shut would avoid unpleasantness; the lady accompanying her looked as if she would not tolerate any nonsense whatsoever, including requests to go to the bathroom.

Rey kept herself still and quiet. She did not want to think about what came next. She was terrified that it might be worse than the place she was leaving.

Eventually, they arrived at Eternal Hope in New York City. The facility was run by a lady called Maz Kanata.

 

When Ms. Kanata had first given her a tour of the home, Rey’s eyes had blazed with unshed tears. Ms. Kanata was of indiscriminate age, tiny, with huge eyes that were emphasized by round, Coke-bottle glasses. Rey had loved her instantly.

The Eternal Hope Children’s Home was different from Rey’s old home in every possible way. People smiled at her, asked how she was and introduced her to others as if she had a right to be there in that beautiful place, instead of miserably huddled in a dark dirty room back at Plutt’s, with only her thoughts to accompany her… Maz’s patience and forgiveness were unbounded but she ran the children’s home on a strict schedule, nevertheless. The children adored Maz.

Rey felt completely out of place. Eternal Hope was light, warm, and clean, and so much more welcoming than anywhere she’d been in her life…and there was a real piano, too. It was beautiful - “a baby grand,” a voice had whispered to her almost from a memory - black, slightly dinged up, but nonetheless the most elegant thing she’d ever seen hovering in the corner of the music room.

Rey would walk by the room every chance she could and one day gave in to overwhelming yearning to touch that piano.

Rey sidled closer to it, noticing the top was down, and the cover was over the keys. The word “Steinway” shone from dull brass lettering above the keyboard. Above that, someone had clumsily scratched the words “Millennium Falcon” into the woodwork. What should have been a desecration felt more like an inscription of love. Some unknown, unseen hand had taken care to name this particular piano.

“The _Falcon_ …” Rey whispered.

After a minute, Rey lifted the cover and began to play the song. Ben’s song. _The Moonlight Sonata._

She could remember it so clearly … and that was when she met Luke and recognized him as Ben’s uncle from London … and then Luke gave her lessons every day on piano and a little later on the violin, too.

 

Rey yawned widely, and said, “And then, one day, Luke let me play the _Hammer_ and I … loved it, y’know? So, now…” She yawned again.

At some point during her story, Rey had stretched out on her sofa across from Kylo. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she sighed. She was falling asleep.

She was exhausted, Kylo realized. He watched her for a long minute, then moved towards her, thinking to bring her into the bedroom so she could sleep…he leaned over and gently lifted her into his arms, carrying her smoothly to the bedroom of the suite.

He went to lay her down, but she put her arms around his neck and whispered, “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone.”

So, he shifted her around and reclined on the bed next to her, propped against the headboard as Rey tucked herself around him, head on his chest, palm over his heart.

“You’re not alone,” he finally murmured into her hair, tucking an arm around her and placing his hand over hers.

“Neither are you,” she whispered as she fell asleep.

_Ah, dammit._ Kylo thought. _I am in such deep shit._


	8. Mozart Don Giovanni Act II: Commendatore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is forced to think about his past. Phasma and Hux arrive in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene from Mozart’s Don Giovanni is one of my favorite pieces of music of all time. In it, the unrepentant Don Giovanni is dragged into hell by a rebuking ghost from his past.

Kylo stayed awake for hours after Rey had fallen asleep. Given everything that had happened that night, he was surprised to find it was only a little after ten o'clock in the evening.

It occurred to him he had never really wanted another person in his private quarters before, not since he was a kid. Even his various sexual exploits had been conducted away from the privacy of his personal space…Privacy had been almost a religion for him.

But, Rey here now was surprisingly comforting. He didn’t mind her presence a bit.

His mind drifted to the conversation they’d just had.

When Rey told him her story, Kylo … hadn’t been fully honest with her. In fact, he’d flat out lied a few times. He knew it was selfish and weak, but he had his reasons ...

He thought about what Rey had said about the _Falcon_ and how he had been mildly surprised to learn his childhood piano had somehow made it to Eternal Hope orphanage.

He remembered the day he had named that piano with his father, not realizing it would be the last time he would speak to his dad for years.

_I wasn’t trying to be bad by carving into that old Steinway. I’d been trying to preserve a memory. After Dad had left again for God knew where, I had been so angry. So fucking lonely._

 

His father had just told him a story of winning a real sailboat off ‘an old friend’ in a game of chance. Han had even shown his son the very dice he’d played when he won it.

Ben had been so excited at the idea of a sailboat. Ben imagined sailing away, maybe with his dad. Maybe they could go fishing or something.

“Can I see it, Dad? The boat you won?” Ben had asked eagerly.

“Someday, kid. But for now, you’ll have to stay here with your mom. She says you are getting really good on that thing,” Han said, nodding to the baby grand parked in the middle of the living room. “Maybe we should give it a name, like a boat. That way, when you play, you can think about sailing!” _Had he been trying to relate to me?_

“Can I name it after _your_ new boat, Dad?” Ben had wanted to please his father. Desperately.

Han laughed out loud, crinkling his eyes and rubbing his son’s head. _Nobody laughed like Han Solo._

“You can name that damn thing whatever you want, kid. But whoever heard of a piano named _The Millennium Falcon_?”

Ben had waited for years, in a state of almost agonizing loneliness before he’d realized he would never go sailing with his father.

After oceans of disappointments and mountains of betrayals from the people who were supposed to love Ben Solo, he was an unwanted afterthought, a problem to be passed on to someone else. At the culmination of this awareness, Ben had made the decision to leave more from a sense of self-preservation than anything.

When Ben had called Snoke explaining his situation, he wasn’t sure what to expect: He was in New York and a minor under the guardianship of his uncle. His mother was out of the country and his father…he hadn’t spoken to him in a very, very long time.

Snoke had simply told him to stay calm and wait to be contacted by his lawyers. Ben had also wanted to ask about the money Snoke had promised – Snoke had practically dangled it like bait – but Ben was nervous to be so bold. Ben had the vague idea that perhaps he could give some of it to Rey or her family. He knew she lived in very poor conditions, judging by her clothes and generally grubby appearance every time he’d seen her.

As the idea to help Rey took root, Ben felt brave.

“I’ll need money,” he had said baldly. _What if Snoke became angry and hung up the phone?_

But Snoke had only laughed on the other end of the line and cackled, “You’ll receive access to an account within the hour.”

And he had. The paperwork had been delivered to Ben at his mother’s apartment on the Upper East Side. More money than he’d ever expected to receive, along with several stacks of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. Ben had known then he had made the right decision.

Ben’s emancipation had been almost too easy. His mother had only wanted to hush things up - _because of her fucking career_ \- and Han Solo had already agreed to let him go without a fight.

The only person who had ever cared about him was Rey, and she was a kid. He would help her.

After his schooling was finished in Russia, he would go back, find Rey. And in the meantime, he had money. He could try to make things better for her. Maybe he could hire her a music tutor…or something…he just needed help finding her, first.

But, weeks after he’d arrived in Russia, Ben realized he could never go back. Snoke had made it clear that if Ben committed to training, there would be no side-trips or distractions allowed. Ben gave up the idea of finding Rey in person and decided to make a call, instead.

It was the hardest call he would ever make.

“Dad. It’s…Ben.”

“Hey, kid. Luke told me what happened. So, you’re in Russia, now, huh?” Han’s voice sounded much older than it had the last time they’d spoken. Ben wondered if he looked much older, too.

“Yeah. I’m staying here and going to school. I just can’t be in New York anymore.”

“I get it, kid. You need to find your own way in the world. I tried to tell them that. They didn’t like hearing it.” At those words, Ben felt a strong surge of disappointment. His dad wasn’t even trying to argue him into staying with the family. If Han had asked him to, right then and there, Ben would have come back in a heartbeat. But Han had never asked, and Ben would never forgive him for that. Never.

But Ben still needed the favor for Rey. One last thing…and then he’d be free.

“Dad, I need … your help. I know you have connections with … people.”

Han grunted in agreement, “You could say that.”

“Dad, this is the most important thing I’ll ever ask you to do. I … have money. I’ll pay whatever you want. Whatever it takes. I just really need this favor.”

“I don’t want your damn money kid,” Han sounded a little defensive. “If I can do something for you, just ask. If I can’t do it…well, I might know some…people… who can.”

Ben felt a wave of relief.

“It’s about this kid I know in London. I want to help her and I don’t know how…”

Ben told his dad everything he could think of, everything he could remember about Rey. And then he waited. For ages, it seemed.

When the call finally came, his father told him Rey had been found, living in an orphanage in London; Han told him that Lando and Uncle Chewie were working on getting her transferred to Eternal Hope in New York through their… connections. They had obtained a bit of information about Rey’s parents, too, and how she had ended up at Plutt’s.

Ben had transferred money to pay for her travel and to take care of all the paperwork stuff to get her moved to a different country.

Ben wasn’t sure what they were doing was entirely legal, but he knew Rey would be sent to a good place. Although he had cringed at the thought of Rey possibly being around his mother and uncle – he knew Eternal Hope was a Skywalker family philanthropic project – he still thought maybe this would be a good thing.

At least Ben would know where she was. He could write to Rey and keep in touch. Leia traveled too much to be relied on, but Luke - yes, even if Luke was pissed at Ben, Luke still had integrity. He’d make sure Rey got Ben’s letters.

_Luke is a good person,_ Ben thought, _even if he’s a total asshole._

Ben would write to Rey, and, as much as it might kill him, he’d send his letters in the care of Luke Skywalker.

He wrote letter after letter, trusting that his uncle was giving them to Rey. He wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to receive letters in return, under the circumstances. After a few months, he wasn’t entirely sure that it was okay to be sending letters to Rey in the first place…and then, he knew it wasn’t okay.

And then, he had to stop. As his training became more intense, he had to focus on survival more than anything. At some point, Snoke had finally begun to introduce a more … complicated regime.

Ben Solo would have to burn all ties to his past … _kill it if you have to_ … to become Kylo Ren.

 

His mind wandered back to that evening when Rey had smiled and teased him about his supposed “ice-skating” workout regime. She’d been so beautiful with her shining eyes, her gentle mocking, her open conversation… she’d treated him like a person, not a monster.

What was he supposed to do?

Kylo was too weak and selfish to deny himself those few moments of joy by telling her the truth, not when he’d been starved for something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing…

Besides, what would he have said?

_No actually, my workout routine is usually a bit more intense than a few laps around an ice rink and involves a lot more weapons and sometimes blood …_

_No, actually, it was me and my dad who had you moved from London to New York … with money given to me by my Russian mobster boss … who I still work for, by the way …_

_Yes, actually, I know about your parents … I’ve known for years … sorry I forgot to mention it sooner…_

_Why didn’t I try harder to find you when I hadn’t heard back from you? Oh, because, you know, I was getting really into working with a group of hitmen for the worst faction of the Russian Mafia, so I was kind of busy with that..._

Kylo had spent well over a decade learning how to conceal truths with half-truths.

He fully admitted to himself that the only reason he had exaggerated about the ice skating, lied about knowing how she got to New York, and couldn’t admit why he’d stopped writing to her was because he didn’t want her to stop laughing.

Kylo couldn’t tell her the truth and take that glowing, admiring look from her eyes. He couldn’t watch it be replaced with loathing.

His thoughts turned to the real reason why he was in such good shape. Nothing other than many hours a day for years, learning martial arts and survival skills, could hone a body into a weapon like his. Snoke had required _all_ his operatives to train vigorously every day, and after that, they would practice music, without exception.

_I just can’t talk about it because I’m a selfish monster…and I don’t want you to hate me…_

 

As Kylo held Rey, listening to her soft breaths, he felt like her presence was slowly unraveling the barbed wire he had so meticulously wrapped around his heart. True, each little barb stung a bit as it pulled out, leaving a tiny trail of blood, but it was a cathartic sting. Nevertheless, Rey was slowly undoing the painstaking work he’d done to protect himself and that made him vulnerable.

So, he would wrap himself in lies and hope they would be enough to cushion the inevitable blow of rejection when it came…because at the end of the day, nobody could love a monster like him.

He curved his arm more tightly around the sleeping woman in his arms and fell into a restless sleep.

Phasma and Hux landed stateside at four in the morning and Phasma called him immediately. Rey had moved in the night, to curl herself onto her side, Kylo spooning around her. His phone’s buzzing woke him instantly, and he gently disentangled himself from Rey to answer it.

He answered in Russian, indicating to Phasma that he was not alone.

Phasma kept the call very short and to the point: Their New York people were already out looking for Kylo’s targets and finding a suitable place for an interrogation. She didn’t expect it would take long.

“Start at Rey’s apartment,” Kylo muttered, “They’ve probably figured out where she lives by now.”

He gave Phasma Rey’s address, then mentioned he needed her to distract Rey for the afternoon but keep an eye on her. Kylo had some errands to run. He suggested shopping. _Women liked shopping, right?_

“She’ll need something to wear for the performance tonight, and I don’t think she should go back to her apartment until we take care of those guys…”

“Ugh, fine. But you know I don’t like being around people. If she drives me crazy, I’m leaving her on the subway.”

Kylo knew Phasma was joking because if Phasma disobeyed him, he would personally disembowel her, so he simply said, “You’ll like her. Don’t forget, you two are going to be roomies for a while.”

“I’ll take her shopping. But you’re paying for everything. And I’m getting something for myself, too.”

“Fine. See you later this morning.”


	9. Rimsky-Korsakov Scheherazade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey sees something inspiring and meets Phasma for the first time.

When she awoke, the weak, wintry sun was just streaming into the bedroom window, and Rey had a moment of confusion.

Rey could have sworn she had dreamed someone was speaking in Russian last night…

Everything came flooding back to her at once. Whatever had happened at the beginning of the evening, something had shifted between Ben’s angry demands for his violin and him holding her while she slept…

She looked at the rumpled pillow next to her and realized he’d stayed with her through the night. Then, as she became more fully awake, she heard it. Piano music. _Ben’s playing Moonlight Sonata_ , she realized.

She climbed out of bed and padded barefoot out towards the source of the music. He couldn’t see her watching as he played. He was facing away from her, seated at the piano.

He was wearing a black tank top and black sweatpants. His arm muscles flexed as he played.  His legs pushed and withdrew as his feet gently touched the pedals.

The muscles of his incredibly sculpted shoulders bunched and danced. His hands moved gracefully over the keys. His hands alone were a feast for the eyes. Broad-palmed and large, his long, neatly rounded fingers would have been _almost_ brutish had they not been moving so delicately over the keys. The sensitivity he portrayed in the act of playing the piano was incongruent to his warrior’s size and body. It was so beautiful.

Rey felt a swooping sensation low in her belly as she watched him, thinking of last night’s fantasy in the shower and feeling less embarrassed than she should.

She walked around quietly into his line of sight, not wanting him to stop. She sat in the chair nearby as her eyes met his. She just wanted to sit and listen and watch him.

He seemed to know it because after _Moonlight_ was over, he played a Chopin Nocturne, and then Rachmaninoff. Rey adored Rachmaninoff.

There were so many pieces to this moment, layered on top of those from last night and those she remembered of him from long ago. It was sweet and painful, and undefinable.

He played for over an hour before Rey’s stomach let out a loud groan of hunger.

 

Kylo laughed out loud at the interruption – _when was the last time I laughed?_ – and thanked her for her contribution to the music.

Rey laughed, too. “Where can I get some breakfast around here?”

Kylo nodded to the phone on the end table and said, “Get anything you want.”

Fascinated, Rey pored over the menu next to the phone and, finally deciding, ordered herself some breakfast. Kylo was pretty sure she’d never ordered room service before in her life as he listened to her happily chattering away on the phone. The thought made his heart twinge. _Another barb drawn out_ , he thought.

“I was going to go for a run this morning, and then I have some errands to run all afternoon. Will you be okay just hanging out for a bit?”

“Here? In this hellhole?” Rey’s sarcasm was in good form after she’d had a cup of coffee.

“Actually, I was hoping you could do a favor for me today. A friend of mine from school is in town. She’s a cello player and just got on at the New York Philharmonic, so you’ll be working with her in the near future … I wonder if you might hang out with her a bit today? I don’t want to leave you on your own after everything…and you shouldn’t go back to your apartment just yet… Maybe you two could go shopping for a gown for your performance tonight?” Kylo watched her carefully as he asked.

“Oooh! Yes! That sounds amazing. I would love to meet your friend!” Rey said sunnily. “And I should pick up a dress for tonight…” Her eyes darkened just a bit at that, but she quickly recovered, smiling up at him.

“Good,” he said relieved. “I’ll be there tonight, too. Maybe we can talk a bit more after the concert?”

 

Rey, still in her pajamas, was enjoying the extravagant luxury of reality television on the massive flat-screen TV in the living room when he left to go for his run. Kylo absolutely did not tell her that “run” meant he needed to stop by his weapons cache and grab a few things. He wouldn’t rest until he knew Rey’s attackers had been dealt with and why she’d been targeted.

He returned an hour later to find her in the master bedroom looking through the clothes he’d had brought up the night before.

“How on earth did you manage all this?” she asked in amazement.

“I just…told them you were my sister and that you’d lost all your luggage. They pretty much took care of it…” he said.

“Well, this is quite a lot for just one night,” Rey said. “But I will definitely pay you back first chance I get.”

Kylo would flatly refuse to take money from her but at the look in her eye, he decided to change the subject. 

Instead, he said, running a hand through his hair, “I’m going to hop in the shower – I’ll use the other one so you can get ready in here. Phasma just texted and said she’ll be here in a bit.”

 

Rey returned to evaluating her clothing options.

She chose a pair of jeans and a blouse and was sure the outfit she was wearing probably cost more than the rest of her entire wardrobe.

Just then, the phone on the bedside table rang. Knowing Ben was in the shower, Rey picked it up hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Hello, Miss Adams, this is Julian at the front desk. Your expected guest is here. Shall I send her up?”

_Miss Adams? Oh, right, I’m supposed to be his sister and Ben’s using an alias…_

“Oh, yes, please do!” Rey said enthusiastically.

Rey took another moment to admire her outfit in the full-length mirror. Then she considered a moment; although her old coat was perfectly functional, the new one that had been sent up was so much nicer. She tried it on and immediately loved the rich texture of the thick off-white wool. The color brought out the honey tones in her eyes.

She tried to keep the image of Ben just now, lightly sweaty from his run, firmly out of her head. This was not the time for thoughts of how she wanted to run her tongue over his sweat-covered – _Rey! Stop it!_

She just had this thought when she heard the bell of the elevator arriving at the suite and strode out to meet Ben’s friend.

As Rey approached the elevator, the door to the bathroom down the hall opened. She glanced over, then did a double-take, freezing in place.

Ben walked out of the bathroom wearing the world’s smallest towel wrapped around his waist.

Rey’s eyes froze on his naked chest. His perfectly sculpted, gorgeous, naked chest. Her mouth went dry. Her jaw gaped. He stared back at her with an expression of surprise and she watched his throat muscles contract as he swallowed.

The only thought in her head was how she badly wanted to touch him. She wanted to run her hands over those pecs and abs to see if they were as hard as they looked. She wanted to explore the texture of his alabaster skin with her mouth. She wanted to see where that fine trail of dark hair below his navel led to. She was hoping his towel would fall off…

The swoosh of the elevator doors behind her interrupted her train of thought. Rey raked her eyes away from Ben’s overwhelming display of masculine glory and watched one of the most stunning women she’d ever seen stride into the room.

Phasma stopped, took in the situation in one glance and said, “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

 

Rey stood next to Phasma in the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, Phasma turned to Rey and said slyly, “Well. Lucky for you I was there just now…”

“What?”

“I’ve known Kylo for a long time. I’ve _never_ seen him with quite that look on his face…” Phasma smirked.

“What?” Rey said again.

“Oh, you know. That man looked at you the way a starving man looks at a two-thoudand-dollar steak dinner.”

Rey felt a flush creep over her neck and face.

“He looked like he wanted to eat you alive…and you looked like you might have let him,” Phasma continued lasciviously. “Which is why, like I said, it was a good thing I showed up when I did …”

“Um.” Rey literally could not form words right now. Not when the sight of Ben’s flawlessly carved body was burned into her mind.

“…I mean, I could cut the sexual tension in there with a knife…”

Rey wasn’t sure how to respond, so she kept her silence as the elevator smoothly lowered towards the lobby.

“I’m Phasma, by the way.”

Remembering her manners, Rey finally looked up at the woman next to her and said, “Oh! And I’m Rey! It’s lovely to meet you! Um. I hope it’s all right if we go dress shopping?”

Phasma grinned at her, seeming to sense that Rey’s thoughts were still not entirely focused on the moment.

Phasma let it go and replied, “So, tell me what kind of dress we’re in the market for.”

“I’m looking for something…” Rey paused, then answered decisively, “something that will _finish_ what he just started.”

Phasma laughed out loud and said, “Oh, I _like_ you! Yes! Let’s find something to really _torture_ him, shall we?”

She tucked Rey’s arm into hers and they proceeded out of the elevator.

 

Rey appreciated how Phasma took charge without being overbearing.

Phasma was gorgeously blonde and very, very tall. In fact, she was quite possibly even taller than Ben. Phasma had a fantastic British accent, sharp blue eyes, and pale, creamy skin. Rey wasn’t sure of her age, but she assumed it to be around Ben’s age, maybe a year or two older, if they had known each other at school.

Rey liked her immediately and felt comfortable talking to her as if they’d known each other for years. When Phasma mentioned she was joining the symphony and new to town and asked if Rey might know of anyone who needed a roommate, Rey felt like the timing couldn’t have been better.

“I’m actually thinking about moving,” Rey said as they exited the second shop of the morning. _Since I’m afraid to go back to my place after getting shot at…_

“Perfect! I think we’d get along well, don’t you?” Phasma seemed to take everything in stride.

Rey was charmed and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. A roommate like Phasma would be excellent. Rey was always so lonely and Phasma seemed like a nice, fun, laid-back person… _What a perfect coincidence!_

 

They went to several shops, and it occurred to Rey that she couldn’t afford one of the straps on a dress, let alone a whole one. When she said as much, Phasma replied pragmatically, “Well, _he_ started it, so _he’s_ going to have to pay for it.”

When Rey tried to protest, Phasma said simply, “Rey, _darling_. Trust me. You _want_ to make him pay. And he can afford it. Trust me. Besides, I already have his card.”

Phasma pulled out a credit card and waved it slightly. “Now let’s spend some money.”

Rey’s practical side took over. And she really did want to find something alluring. The idea of teasing Ben made her feel a bit better about feeling so … _frustrated_. _Sexually_.

She was feeling rather reckless.

They conversed lightly and Rey found herself quite comfortable with the tall blonde woman with the sharp tongue and pragmatic outlook on life.

“So, you knew him from school?” Rey asked her, curious.

“Oh, yes. I play the cello, you know, so we spent quite a bit of time together at school.”

“Er. Did you two ever…?”

“Oh! God, no. We’re too much alike, and, well, opposites attract and all that,” Phasma eyed her knowingly. “He’s far too possessive…domineering.” Then, “I need a drink. Let’s go to Prada and have champagne, shall we? Maybe they’ll have something for your _little project_ there…”

 

Phasma had a surprising amount of knowledge on the psychology of how to turn someone on with clothes. Rey was impressed.

“It’s not about showing too much skin. It’s about showing just the right amount,” Phasma mused.

They were lounging in a back dressing room, sipping champagne while staff scurried back and forth, bringing out gowns for their approval.

“No. Way too low cut. Her tit will come flying right out. She’s playing the violin in front of thousands of people tonight.” Rey’s stomach lurched at Phasma’s words.

“No. That’s all wrong. She’s not a casino hooker.” Phasma turned to Rey and lifted a handsomely groomed blonde eyebrow.

“Uh, no,” Rey said. “Thank you.”

“No. Too short.”

“No. It can’t have sleeves. She’s playing the fucking violin. Did you not just hear me say that _literally_ five minutes ago?”

“No. The color screams tramp…actually…maybe that one for me. Do you have it in my size?”

“Ooh, yes, show us that one.” Phasma eyed the next dress critically. The dress was cut very modestly in front, with a choker-style halter top, so Rey’s arms and shoulders would be free. But the back was completely exposed.

“Yes, I think so… Shows off your back and shoulders, but gives the impression you’re covering up… the slit up the side isn’t too high, either… leaves a bit for the imagination.”

Rey looked at the dress. “I don’t know. It goes down so far in the back. My ass crack will be falling out…”

“Mmm, not quite. Just close _enough_ to make him drool over it without being able to do anything about it.”

At Phasma’s urging, Rey tried on the dress. It did look good on her. The bodice was fitted enough that Rey’s chest was fully covered. _No fear of a tit popping out in this dress._

“Perfect!” Phasma exclaimed. “If that doesn’t make him choke with lust, I don’t know what will!” Phasma was having way too much fun with this…but Rey was having fun, too. “Now, here’s the plan…”

 

There was nothing like attending a concert in New York.

This was the final concert in the subscription season; first, they would perform a concerto, then there would be an intermission, and then a symphony.

Kylo hunched a bit in his seat, feeling like an intruder as he watched the orchestra members tune their instruments, guided by the Concert Master at the conductor’s podium who directed each section in turn. The discordant hum only lasted a moment; these were professional musicians and would only need a brief fine-tuning.

He was actually nervous for Rey, for this performance to go well. After all she’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, it wouldn’t have surprised him for her to cancel.

This crowd was among the most sophisticated in the world, despite the city’s relative “newcomer” status to the world of art and music, particularly in comparison to much older cities like Paris, Prague, Berlin, and London. New Yorkers consumed art like their daily bread, and they were unafraid to critique it and hold it to impeccable standards.

The unmistakable high expectations of the audience were clear. The energy here was unique because the audience was unique. Kylo was under no doubt that if Rey’s performance did not go well this evening, the critics would not hesitate to eviscerate her in print the next day, despite her youth and innocence. Nothing toughened up a performer like New York.

He'd had other things to take care of that afternoon, and by the time he had dutifully put on his tux, arrived at the concert hall, checked his coat, and proceeded to his box seat, he was ready for this day to be over.

As expected, once the orchestra was in tune and waiting attentively, the Concert Master seated himself in the position of First Chair, and the lights dimmed. The conductor stepped out from backstage, making his way to the podium as the audience politely applauded. The orchestra members stood in unison, welcoming Luke Skywalker to the stage.

Prior to the day before, Kylo had not seen his uncle for years and was again shocked at how much older he looked. Luke was wearing a tailcoat, dressed impeccably, blue eyes flashing briefly at the crowd before he took command of the podium. He was not tall or large by any means - Kylo easily dwarfed him physically - but Luke’s stage presence commanded attention.

Kylo was momentarily impressed; as a fellow artist and performer, he understood that power was not always relayed to the audience by physical size. Luke’s aura and charisma were legendary, and Kylo could appreciate it as an artist, even if he hated the man.

 _I was so wrong about Luke,_ Kylo fumed. _Luke’s the biggest asshole of the century. All those fucking letters…if Rey had gotten them, written back…I might not have…well…too late to dwell on that…the past is dead…I killed it._

Moments later, Rey walked onto the stage, following the same path through the violins that Luke had taken, and Kylo found himself holding his breath.

Rey looked at Luke with a grim look on her face, as the orchestra respectfully remained standing for her, then was seated again at a gesture from Luke.

As the applause came again, welcoming her to the stage, Kylo noticed she looked stunningly lovely. Her hair was swept into a high chignon and she was wearing a sparkling gown. It was a nude-toned sheath, covered in diamond-like beads, with a halter neckline that left her shoulders bare so as not to interfere with the violin or the range of motion she would need for bowing.

Kylo nodded appreciatively at the modest, floor-length cut of her gown. Then, as Rey angled to the side, taking her position onstage, his breath choked. _At the sight of her entirely naked back._

“Problem?” Phasma said slyly, entering the box and sitting next to him.

“ _That’s_ your idea of an appropriate gown for a concert? _What the fuck_ , Phas? I can practically see –“

“But you can’t _actually_ see anything you’re not supposed to. Oh, come on! Don’t be such a prude.” Phasma was goading him and appeared to be enjoying it.

Kylo bit down on a hot surge of jealousy as Rey’s back muscles flexed elegantly to lift the _Hammer_ to her shoulder. He swore he could see shadows of dimples on her lower back, perfectly placed just over her delectably curved ass.

“ _Fuck_.” He said.

“Well… you paid for that dress, so you might as well enjoy the view,” Phasma said nonchalantly. “Oh, and you paid for a few other … more personal…things, too, would you like to hear about them while we’re on the subject?”

Kylo knew exactly what Phasma was referring to and immediately started wondering what kind of underwear Rey was wearing. His mind turned to the noises he was positive he’d heard Rey making last night in the shower and then to the memory of holding her while she slept last night. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Phasma continued relentlessly, “Can you believe it costs ninety dollars for a tiny scrap of –“

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Phas.” He turned to glare at her with his most menacing stare. Usually, that stare was enough to stop even a hardened criminal in his tracks.

Phasma eyed him right back without any sign of fear and said equably, “She looks good, doesn’t she?”

Kylo shook his head and turned back to watch Rey, immediately sinking into a pool of lust as he watched _his_ dress draped over Rey’s curves.

Everyone watching her would be able to see the elegant length and grace of her arms, the delicate musculature of her back as she moved. So wrapped up in his jealousy was he, Kylo completely missed the smirking grin on the tall, elegantly clad blonde woman seated next to him.

Luke lifted his baton with a glance over his shoulder to make eye contact with Rey as she lifted her bow. Kylo’s entire reality halted at that moment.

It was the best part of performing, in his mind. That glance – the breath before the start – the connection made –  it was a mind-meld. It was like the last moment before death. The last thing anyone would know until _after_.

Luke languidly lowered the baton, Rey set her bow to the strings of the _Hammer,_ and Kylo was transfixed.


	10. Stravinsky The Firebird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey’s performance gets under Kylo’s skin…. during intermission, things get interesting in her dressing room. Kylo takes something that “belongs” to him.

_“…for a select few, the capacity to express the language of music, to communicate it from an internal force into an external projection of that force, is, while quite literally limited by one’s physical being, also unlimited in its existence on a spiritual plane. While limited by a physical existence, not just of the instrument itself, but the musician’s body, the emotional and spiritual realm of music is_ unlimited _in its power…and_ that _is the gift that you have…” – Maestro Luke Skywalker_

 

Luke Skywalker lowered his baton and the audience collectively exhaled.

_The breath before the start…and now we all share a breath…until…after…_

Rey played like water running over smooth pebbles, like the sensuous whisper of smoke rising from a flickering candle. Her arms and fingers and body swayed and flowed with grace and precision.

An extension of her, the _Hammer_ poured out music, warm and husky, high and clear as a crystal, piercing every heart in the auditorium with definitive inspiration. Kylo didn’t care that the violin rightfully belonged to him. He could only listen. And watch.

She was not a flashy performer as Kylo was. She swayed limberly, but did not thrash or contort; she poured herself into the music as languorously as quicksilver, cleanly, precisely. Her back muscles were a work of art, as were her shoulders and arms – the physicality of her performance conveyed the same refinement as the music. 

The orchestra became a backdrop for her and her alone. Even Luke Skywalker, a conductor who was well-skilled at captivating an audience, could not hold full attention to the pure light of Rey’s music.

As he watched her, Kylo felt strange. A calm, a peace, something deeper, something he couldn’t name overcame him so completely and unexpectedly… he found himself holding his breath only to breathe with her. His throat was working desperately to push back the choking lump that formed there as he gazed upon the magnificent woman on the stage.

Thrills swept up and down his frame, through him and beyond as he listened and watched. He knew without a doubt he was connected somehow, to _everything_ , to every single person in the concert hall; this was a shared experience that would change every heart in the audience.

It was changing his, certainly. The music played and crept into all the tiny cracks in his battered heart, filling them with luminescence and polishing all the jagged edges. His defenses, which he had always thought sturdily built upon foundations of bristling anger and resentment, became insignificant. Rey’s music wove into and through him filling the lonely spaces with light.

Part of him was achingly proud of Rey and the rest of him was transported beyond even her accomplished playing. His soul sang out to know that such beauty, purity, and exquisiteness could exist. The fact that it was called forth by _Rey_ was too much. He simply knew he would never be the same after this.

At some point, he realized he was almost gasping aloud as he listened; he didn’t care - the opinions of others held little meaning to him - but still, he drew a staggered breath even as he continued to focus on Rey’s music, momentarily allowing it to systematically dismantle his defenses.

Rey played like an angel, sweet and light, but with a gravitas that kept the audience grounded, secure. She would not release them, but neither would she fail them. She played and they were safe.

She was like the galaxy on a clear night. Above all of them, shining down with ethereal beauty, untouchable, but fully on display for mortal appreciation. Timeless. Eternal.

The barbs in his heart were now not just being gently plucked out, but ripped. A clean, open wound immediately salved by the music pouring forth.

Kylo watched her play and had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

 

**Intermission**

At the end, as the crowd roared appreciatively, Phasma looked at her phone and pointedly told Kylo she had to go. Her people had gotten back to her about _the shooters Kylo wanted dead_ …

“Are you even hearing a word I’m saying?” Phasma sounded irritated.

Kylo could barely form a coherent response. He mumbled something about “take care of it” and said he’d find her in the morning.

Phasma huffed. “ _Early_ morning, Ren. I’ve had about four hours sleep in the last two days…” She swept out of the box in a temper.

Kylo made his way out of the box, down the stairs, and to the backstage area. Mr. Threepio did not question his presence backstage, probably assuming Kylo had every right to be there.

Kylo found Rey’s dressing room, surprisingly unlocked, and stepped inside.

It could have been minutes or hours, but Kylo could be patient. Actually, no. He couldn’t.

When the door finally opened and she stepped inside, still holding the _Hammer_ and bow, his breath caught. Their eyes met, his glowing with hunger and hers still sparkling with pride.

“Ben. What – what are you doing here?”

“Sweetheart … we have a serious problem.”

 

He stood there, in the middle of her dressing room, breathing heavily, in his immaculate tux and looking dangerously handsome.

She recognized through the fog of everything that had happened in the last two days that there was something between them. It was unstoppable. Like gravity.

She could see his desire in the line of his shoulders and the tilt of his head as he looked at her. Her lips parted and her stomach fluttered at the thought. _He wanted her._

She didn’t remember setting the _Hammer_ into its case, but she must have done so before she threw herself at him, literally.

They met in the middle of the room, his hands grasping her head on either side, hers clutching at his ribs, scrabbling for an anchor. He was tall, but she was wearing six-inch stilettos, sparkly things that seemed pointless until just now when she realized they would lift her closer to him.

As his mouth slammed down onto hers, she was glad for her ridiculous footwear. She braced herself on his broad chest and felt his arms come down around her, his hands skating down her bare back.

His kiss was devouring, warm hot lips pulling at hers, wet hot tongue teasing her lips into opening for him. His breath was warm and he smelled amazing. He smelled like rain and smoke and rosin and lust. Rey felt herself melting as she ran her hands up the buttery-soft fabric of his shirt, past his collar, into his long, impossibly soft hair. He groaned softly into her mouth and she felt a tug of response deep in her belly.

His hands didn’t stop roaming as he kissed her, bending her back slightly as they stroked right past the low-cut back of her gown to cup around her ass. He pulled her into him and Rey felt desire collide into her even as he ground his hips into hers. He was unmistakably aroused.

His lips moved across her cheek towards her ear, where he sucked her earlobe and whispered, “You are so fucking sexy.” The tip of his tongue lightly swirled around her ear even as his hands kneaded her rear then moved around to grasp her hips.

She buried her face into his hair and sucked a red mark onto his neck, just under his jaw. He groaned again, this time louder. The sound drove her crazy.

Still grasping her hips and kissing her neck, he backed her towards the door, swaying gently. She felt her back lightly bump against it but she was too lost in the warm texture of the skin under his jaw and the smell of his hair. Her breathing was becoming dangerously ragged as Kylo moved his hands up to her ribs, one hand claiming a breast and squeezing gently.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit there and watch you play while you were wearing this dress?” He growled. “All I could think about were the filthy things I want to do to you.” He slipped a hand around her back and plunged it down the back of her dress, running a finger under her thong and down into the cleft of her backside.

She could _feel_ him trying to get his hands all over her skin. Trying to get everywhere, all at once. He wanted more and she wanted to give it to him.

She used her last shred of sanity to reach over and lock the door. This seemed to trigger a fresh wave of desire in Kylo, as he roughly stood her up in front of him, reached down, hiked up her skirt, and smoothly pulled her thong down her legs.

His tongue swept out over his bottom lip, even as he bit it, pushing his bottom teeth forward. Then he said quietly, “I think this is mine.” His eyes smoldered with banked fire as he shoved her thong into his pocket.

His implication was crystal clear. Rey gulped and thought, _Damn Phasma, she must have said something…_

She braced her hands on his warm, unyielding shoulders thinking they were solid, like a boulder that had been sitting in the sun all day. His muscles flexed under her hands and she felt desire ricochet through her body and land in a hot throb at her core.

“I knew you were there, watching me,” she whispered, “I could _feel_ your eyes on me.”

Catching her legs under his arms, he backed her into the door again and swept in for another ravenous kiss. He wrapped her legs around his hips and slid a hand straight to the center of her thighs.

Rey was literally becoming dizzy as his fingers stroked her. She arched her hips into him and he slid a finger inside.

“God, you are so wet for me, Rey,” he groaned into her mouth.

The room was becoming blurred, the only thing Rey could see or feel was him.

Which is why when she heard a frantic pounding on the door she wanted to cry.

Kylo looked like he wanted to kill whoever was knocking.

And then she remembered this was only the intermission. Rey still had the second half of a concert to perform.

 _“Miss Rey? Five minutes until we’re back up.”_ _Threepio. Damn him._

“Oka-ay.” Rey’s voice was shaky.

Kylo had murder in his eyes as he moved his hand and slowly let her legs down, smoothing her skirt back into place.

He pressed his lips together in frustration then leaned his forehead into hers and said with a distinct edge to his voice, “We’re not done, yet,” even as he stepped away.

Rey gulped, tore her eyes away from him, grabbed her violin, and practically ran out of the dressing room, glad she’d already played the Tchaikovsky.

Her hands were shaking. _Maybe it will help my vibrato_ , she thought frantically as she bolted towards the stage.

 

She was halfway through the symphony when she remembered her underwear was still in his pocket. She didn’t slip up, but she definitely felt her cheeks turn red.

****

**_Meanwhile, back in Rey’s dressing room…_ **

Kylo Ren could not remember the last time he’d felt this desperate. Whatever had just happened had driven him to the edge of want, but it had been so much more elemental than that. He could not find words to describe the desperation that had clawed his way out of his chest and was now sitting on his shoulders like an unleashed demon, tormenting him.

He stood there, in her dressing room, with her fucking underwear in his pocket, and actually felt like a helpless child, something he had vowed he would never feel again – not since that night he’d first called Snoke.

For the first time since he became Kylo Ren, he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

He knew what he _wanted_ to do. He _wanted_ to walk out to the stage, grab Rey around the waist, and drag her to the nearest flat surface. He _wanted_ to fuck her until neither one of them could remember their own names.

The fact that she’d returned his desire so willingly was only part of the problem, compounded by the addictive feeling of authority her willingness gave him. He wanted desperately to pull her down into the darkness with him, to show her a side of herself that was as wild and as shameless as he was, to force her to feel the things he felt…

Kylo was well aware of the power of that darkness. He had wielded that side of himself so effectively that in many ways he had forgotten there could be good, sweet, genuine things in the world. Until now.


	11. Mahler Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey relive the day’s events while experiencing some mutually inflicted frustration…

Kylo eventually emerged from her dressing room, inevitably drawn to the music. The symphony had started but he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his box. Instead, he stood backstage, hovering in the shadows, watching her play.

If the first half of the concert showcased Rey’s incredible precision and purity of motion, the second half ensured the audience would feel her sensuality.

She played like liquid sunlight, but hotter, as if she were burning, if such a thing were possible. Kylo realized this was due in no small part to the recent occurrences in her dressing room. His vantage point from backstage allowed him to clearly see her face.

Like a moth drawn to a flame’s inevitable destruction, Kylo watched and listened with a mixture of agitation and amazement. This was a death he would go to willingly, to be burned alive in her irresistibly bright light.

 

 

Rey hardly registered when Luke Skywalker had addressed the audience in his humble way immediately before the symphony had started.

He had said to them all, “It has been a privilege to conduct this orchestra. The talent here is unparalleled. I would like to announce this will be my final performance and gratefully acknowledge your appreciation and support. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you …”

All Rey could think of was Ben’s eyes. The way they had raked her with desire. The feel of his hands on her, her willingness to do anything, _anything_ , for more …

Somehow, as Luke had raised his arms to conduct the symphony, she had lifted her violin and felt a brief moment of alarm eclipsing all other thoughts as she frantically tried to remember what piece they were playing.

And then Luke – _Luke, I’m so angry at him_ – lifted his baton, looked her squarely in the eye  - almost mournfully - _was he sorry?_ \- and she’d played.

However, now, so wholly focused on the object of her desire – Ben –she played with exquisite longing. And somehow, the audience heard it coming through in every stroke of her bow and every shift and thrum of her fingertips. If she felt passion, then so would they…

And so they did.

As the symphony ended Rey barely had time to process her thoughts, which were still lingering on what had happened between her and Ben at intermission. The audience had loved the performance and given a unanimous standing ovation, which was a huge honor.

Rey simply stood there, smiling mechanically at the crowd. All she could think of was that her underwear was in _his_ pocket and that he _wanted_ her. And he was somewhere out there _waiting_ for her…

After the final bows, Rey retreated immediately to her dressing room, not sure if she would find him there again. She was _almost_ relieved when he wasn’t. 

She took a breath and picked up a soft cloth to rub down her – Ben’s – violin. Any residue of rosin left on the instrument would destroy the varnish, and she was careful to preserve it. She loosened her bow, rubbing down the wooden stem, as well, before placing them in the case and closing the latches.

The bare skin of her thighs made her uncomfortably aware of exactly _how_ they had been bared…

And then it occurred to her that she wasn’t sure where to go, what to do next.

She had arrived at Lincoln Center with Phasma, directly after shopping. Phasma had helped her get ready in her dressing room and then made her way out to the concert hall.

But now she was alone and her apartment was still too scary to consider returning to. What if the police had not yet found the thugs who had tried to rob her?

She heard Ben’s voice again in her mind, _“Are you seriously going to walk around New York with a three-and-a-half-million-dollar violin?”_

Unsure, she stood there.

The door to her dressing room opened. She turned around and there he was.

Rey had never felt such a rush of relief and … something else. The look in his eyes was unmistakably lustful, but also ...reserved? Had he regretted what had happened earlier?

Rey blushed.

He stood there, impossibly handsome in his pristine black tux, black hair falling over his brow, dark eyes heavy with some unknown emotion, pressing his lips between his teeth.

“Rey.”

She turned her head. She couldn’t look at him.

“Rey. Look at me,” he demanded. 

She glanced up and saw he was about to say something.

 

He had been about to proposition her when Mr. Threepio poked his head in and reminded Rey that the after party would be starting soon and he hoped to see her there. Kylo realized that Threepio’s timing was even better – or worse - than Phasma’s.

“Ugh. The party. I don’t even want to go,” Rey moaned.

Kylo was sooo tempted to sweep her back to the hotel and finally have his way with her, but this was her big night. She’d just given a spectacular performance. She needed to be seen by the glittering echelon of New York society if she wanted to make a name for herself. And she deserved it.

He paused, seriously deliberating his choices. He could take her back to the hotel immediately and fuck her silly or take her to the party that would probably launch her career...His tongue swept over his bottom lip as he looked into her unnaturally bright eyes.

“Come on,” he said, inflecting his voice so she couldn’t hear his underlying frustration. “I’ll take you to the party.”

Rey took his arm, apparently relieved to have the decision taken from her. Kylo grabbed the _Hammer_ in its case and lifted an eyebrow. She was so fucking distracted. He knew she wanted him, too.

How many times would he have to be good today? He was not used to this particular kind of self-denial.

This long day was turning into an even longer night…

 

Mitaka pulled the car around and hopped out to open the door. Kylo handed Rey into the car, then set the _Hammer_ between them, hoping it would be enough of a barrier for him to keep his hands off her. He told Mitaka to drive them to the party, and Rey looked at him in surprise.

“What about the _Hammer_?” she asked, “Shouldn’t we –“

Kylo was not about to tell her Mitaka was something between a bodyguard and enforcer for the _Bratva_ who could handle himself, let alone any petty thugs _.._.  He replied evenly, “Mitaka will guard that violin with his life. Don’t worry.”

Rey decided to trust him and instead stared out the window.

Eventually, she said, “I spoke to Luke this evening right before the performance. About your letters. He swore he knew nothing about them.”

Actually, when she’d accused Luke of withholding them, he’d simply stared back at her in shock and said, “Amazing. Every word of what you just said is wrong.” And then, “Has it occurred to you that Ben – Kylo – might be lying to you? Has it occurred to you that he might be trying to manipulate you into giving him the _Hammer_?”

“How can you say something like that about your own nephew?” she’d hissed at him.

“Because I know him. Or _knew_ him. I know _exactly_ how selfish he can be.” Luke had retorted angrily.

And there hadn’t been time for her to argue, because he’d swept past her onto the stage, and she realized she would have to follow him and play.

She’d been furious at Luke. Ben had been nothing but kind and generous to her since… since that moment before he’d realized who she was when he’d confronted them yesterday…

Kylo watched the emotions flicker over her face, as he realized she was deciding how much to tell him. “I’m sure Luke has some very unflattering opinions about me,” he said neutrally.

He was wondering how to tell her he was planning on letting her keep the _Hammer_ when they arrived at the party.

“Oh, shit!” Rey realized as the car pulled up to the building, “We forgot Phasma!”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Phas had to leave. She had some _things_ to attend to…” Kylo muttered. _Lies upon lies._

When they arrived at the party, located in a posh penthouse on the Upper East Side, Kylo immediately felt himself drift into his training. His role at events like these was to be the celebrity, mysterious, but engaging, and pick up gossip from the powerful people in the room.

The true purpose of Snoke’s training had always been remarkably simple: Use the most talented musicians possible to access the world’s elite. The more talented the musician, the more desirable they became. Wealthy people loved assembling exclusivity around themselves.

Kylo had played for royalty and politicians around the world, gaining himself - and by proxy, Snoke - access to a very specific group of powerful people.

Once access had been granted, by way of their talent, it was all too easy for Snoke’s agents to overhear or even directly converse with those who held international secrets. Sometimes, Snoke could ascertain certain impending events just by learning the names of those present, making connections that, to an outsider, would have been impossible to perceive.

Thus, Kylo found himself in conversation with an exclusive mix of people ranging from art dealers, politicians, and even a few representatives of the United Nations. These last had piqued his interest as they discussed an upcoming summit to deal with illegal arms dealings in the Middle East. It did not take Kylo long to figure out Snoke was probably planning something big involving the summit, especially if Snoke was placing his most powerful pieces -  Kylo, Phasma, and Hux – into play.

Someone made a mildly funny joke and Kylo chuckled. Kylo had learned how to laugh disarmingly and to use his striking looks to hide his true intentions behind his formidable talent.

Nobody ever suspected a thing.

And Snoke had been doing this for years, operating to the outside world as a philanthropist, a lover of art and music, and a dedicated businessman who recruited students from around the world to attend his exclusive music school.

Kylo, the wolf surrounded by a circle of sheep, idly chatted as he recalled the earlier part of his day.

 

**Earlier That Day**

_Damn. Either Phasma had the worst possible timing he had ever seen or the best_ , Kylo thought as he stood in the hallway, dripping, and wrapped in the smallest towel in existence.

Of course all the larger bath sheets and robes would be in the master bathroom.

Of course Rey would be standing _right_ there when he came out.

His plan to stealthily creep past and grab something to cover up with evaporated the minute he had encountered Rey in the hall.

_“Am I interrupting something?” Phas had asked._ Of course she had been interrupting. Had Phasma come in any later, Kylo knew for a fact he would have already pounced on Rey and had her ankles over his shoulders. Then Phasma would have gotten much more of an eyeful than she had.

Kylo had been so intently focused on the naked hunger in Rey’s eyes - right before Phasma had swirled into the room. He had barely registered the tall blonde woman’s presence when she snatched a credit card right out of his wallet on the side table, flashed a twisting grin at him, eyeed him up and down, and pulled a speechless Rey into the elevator with her…

_Fuck_.

Kylo swallowed and looked at the clock on a nearby table…he definitely did not have time to take care of his rampant frustration at the moment…he would just have to suffer through the day’s errands.

Although he had already picked up a gun and a knife earlier on his “run,” he also needed to set up an apartment for Phasma, one he hoped Rey would agree to share with her. Kylo needed someone to keep an eye on Rey when he couldn’t…

Kylo also needed to call someone to take care of the bullet-riddled car, pick up a tux, put someone onto watching Rey’s apartment, and buy tickets for tonight’s performance, now that he knew Rey was playing. He was not missing that for the world.

_She’ll be playing the Hammer,_ Kylo realized. He added “call your lawyer again” to his to-do list.

He needed to figure out how to keep her away from her apartment until he was sure it was safe.

He knew he was playing with fire at the thought of keeping her with him at the hotel. _No. That is a bad idea_. If he were a target, it would put her in peril, too.

Still…until they caught the guys … _maybe she’ll have to stay another night … or two … before she moves in with Phasma._

_Better add ‘get condoms’ to your list, just in case._ He felt a painful throb in his groin at the thought.

But, first things first.

Kylo picked up his phone and made a call. Snoke needed an update.

“I’m in New York, and I was targeted for robbery. They were shooting to kill. Phasma is working on finding out why, but I think it’s another faction.”

“Trying to step in? Or for revenge?” Snoke queried.

“Either. She’ll let me know when she finds out. I brought her and Hux over early, in case we needed to take care of _that_ problem, and since they were planning on coming out for the other thing…” 

“Yes, well, Phasma's already starting on at the Philharmonic, as are you.” Snoke’s voice was old but still crackled with authority.

“I’ve already set her up with cover. I’m not going to pursue ownership of the _Hammer_. I think I’ve got the current owner set up to be roommates with Phasma. That way, we can use her as bait, if we need to.” Kylo felt sick saying the words. But if Snoke found out Kylo had a more _romantic_ interest in Rey, Snoke wouldn’t hesitate to use Rey as leverage. And that could not happen.

“Hmmm…Well done, apprentice. Keep me informed if a rival faction is causing problems. I can send in reinforcements if needed…” Snoke coughed, a disgusting phlegmy sound, and hung up the phone.

 

 

Rey had never been to an event like this in her life, but she was mostly having a wonderful time. Everyone was so glamorous and so kind to her about her performance that evening. She’d had a glass or two of delicious bubbly champagne and felt herself relax a bit after the tension of the day. Her eyes drifted to Ben, seeking him out from across the room, even as she deliberated on what might come _after_ the party.

When Phasma had proposed earlier to help Rey with her plan to tease poor Ben into oblivion, Rey thought it sounded fun, if not a bit spiteful.

She knew without a doubt Ben wanted her. She glanced his way again. The fire in his eyes had not gone away, it was only banked. But, when he caught her staring, he’d simply patted his pocket, staring right back at her, reminding her he was still holding on to her thong. Rey felt a surge of longing even as the insides of her thighs grew damp and her pussy clenched. _Dammit_. She wasn’t wearing underwear. _Damn him_.

Phasma promised she would be sitting with Kylo at the concert and vowed she would help with the torture. “Between this dress, these knickers,” she held up the thong Rey had just picked out, “and his massive possessive streak, all I really need to do is get him to focus his attention properly…you’d better brace yourself for it.”

At the time, Rey hadn’t realized Phasma’s plotting would be so … _effective_ …not to mention the reverse effect of Rey being just as frustrated as Ben apparently was.

The air between them was practically humming with tension.

Part of Rey was surprised Ben had not simply jumped on her in the car. She had felt mildly disappointed that he’d been so … polite. Perhaps he had regretted his earlier impulse to visit her dressing room.

But, no, he was not looking at her like a man who regretted kissing her. In fact, he looked rather…predatory.

She recalled the impressive bulge he’d pressed against her during their kiss and the sexy sounds he’d made. And the sight of his bare chest earlier that day…

Deciding she’d had enough, Rey looked him squarely in the eyes and ran the edge of her tongue along her top lip, satisfied to see him visibly react with a clenching of his jaw and an immediate heat in his eyes.

 

Kylo had had enough. With a tilt of his head towards the exit, he turned abruptly and strode away from the middle of the conversation he had been half listening to. If anyone noticed his rudeness, they would have chalked it up to a mercurial artistic temperament.

By the time he’d found their coats, Rey had approached. Neither of them spoke as he helped her into hers, grabbed her hand and dragged her into the elevator, which was unfortunately occupied by a doorman.

They rode in silence down to the main lobby, hands still clasped, and walked out into the chilly winter air. Mitaka was waiting nearby with the car, and Kylo pulled Rey towards it, not even waiting long enough for the car to pull up.

Mitaka held the door open as Kylo helped Rey into the car, and as they waited for the driver to come around and drive them away, Kylo bit out the words, “If you even say a _word_ , I can’t promise I won’t take you right here in the car in front of him.” His eyes glittered dangerously and his entire body was rigid.

Rey held her tongue until Mitaka started the engine, and then quietly said, “Um. I’m on the pill. Just so you know.”

She was very gratified to feel her words quake through him, causing a visible catch of his breath and a tremor in the hand that still held hers.

He made it back to the hotel without ripping her dress off. But only barely.


	12. Grieg - Peer Gynt Suite, In the Hall of the Mountain King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has had enough of Rey's teasing...

It took forever to get back to the hotel room.

When they arrived at the hotel, Kylo practically leapt out of the car, striding purposefully around to open Rey’s door and help her out. He reached in, grabbed the _Hammer_ , snatched up her hand and pulled her into the lobby.

Thankfully, she had remained quiet after her revelation, even though the air between them was now vibrating with desire.

The stop at the vault took an eternity. Neither of them spoke except the few words to the front desk staff that were needed to get the _Hammer_ secured in the hotel vault. As soon as they reached the lobby again, Kylo grasped her hand and yanked her none-too-gently to the elevator to his suite.

As they stood there, riding up, Kylo whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “You are in so much fucking trouble.”

Rey swallowed, but she was no shrinking violet. Her eyes glinted defiantly at his words. She reached out and stroked the bulge at the front of his pants, boldly meeting his gaze.

“How much trouble?” she asked, matching his intensity.

He didn’t move, other than a brief tension around the corners of his eyes. Then his lip curled into a feral snarl as he vowed, “Oh, Rey. I am going to make you _so_ sorry.”

He seized her wrist, pulling her hand away from him. They stood there for a minute watching each other, breathing heavily.

The elevator doors slid open in a soft swoosh. Kylo pushed her into the suite with a gentle shove, and Rey whirled around.

“Take off your coat,” he ordered. His voice was very soft. Courteous, but threaded with steel.

Rey obeyed and slid out of her coat, even as he shrugged out of his overcoat and jacket.

He reached up to pull off his tie, knowing Rey was watching his arms strain against the fabric of his dress shirt as he roughly began to unbutton it.

“You’ve been toying with me all _fucking_ day.” He stripped out of his dress shirt, pulling the sleeves down his sculpted arms. “That wasn’t very … nice of you.”

Rey was apparently fascinated even as she backed away. He could tell she vaguely understood this game. He was the hunter and she was the prey.

She took another step back, looking mildly alarmed.

“Hardly toying,” she said, trying for flippant, even as her voice trembled. _Good_ , he thought.

“You knew _exactly_ what you were doing. And now you’re going to pay for it.” He unbuckled his belt and pulled it free. The _susurrus_ of leather snaking through the belt loops sent a dreadfully sharp and pleasant shiver through the air.

She took another two steps back as she watched him wrap the belt into a loop around his hands before setting it on the side table. He flattened his tongue over his bottom lip and then pressed his lips between his teeth.

“Take off that dress for me, Rey.” Again, his voice was very soft... Polite.

Rey swallowed and reached up to unclasp the choker holding up the halter top of her gown. Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth. She looked nervous. He wondered if she’d ever really stripped for anyone before.

He unbuckled his pants and slowly pulled down the zipper. She gasped.

Kylo’s heart, already thumping hard, skipped a beat.

She took another step back, hand frozen on the clasp of her dress. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at him. _Very good._

Kylo felt like a man on the edge of sanity, and right now, he wanted to eat her alive.

He stalked her the way a panther stalks a deer, slowly herding her to the door to his bedroom.

Rey’s backed into the wall next to the door. She froze. He was still coming at her. He could see she wanted him. She liked him like this…Kylo felt hot craving unfurl low in his belly.

He strode up until there was only an inch between them. He could feel the heat of passion and a tinge of anger rolling off him. She took a breath, obviously aroused. It was overwhelmingly sexy.

He leaned over and his hair brushed against her cheek. “You need some help with that dress, sweetheart?”

His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered the words.

He slid a finger under the edge of her gown and slowly ran it from her collarbone to her ribs, before brushing back up to tease along the side of her breast.

And it was like gravity.

She splayed her hands over the thick slabs of muscle on his chest, the softness of his t-shirt doing nothing to disguise the hardness of his body underneath.

As his mouth caught hers, he slid his other hand to the back of her neck, combing his fingers through her hair, loosening the pins that held it in place, then moving to unhook her dress at the collar.

Her hands on him were warm and eager, but Kylo had no time to fully appreciate them. His tongue swept into her mouth as he slanted his lips against hers more firmly.

He pulled her dress down until it hung on her hips, leaving her naked to the waist. He felt her nipples harden in the cool air of the room. They brushed against him and he sucked in a breath.

He pulled his mouth away from hers to kiss the tender spot just below her ear. As she angled her head to give him better access, his hands swept down and roughly pulled her dress all the way off. It pooled at her feet. She seemed to barely notice. She was too focused on trying to untuck his t-shirt and get her hands on his bare skin.

His hands played over her the way he played the piano. Confidently, leisurely, and with full awareness and control over what he was doing. He was wreaking havoc on her and she was loving it.

Kylo was going to drag this out for as long as he could. Part of him wanted to punish her – he knew that Rey and Phasma had cooked up some plot to torment him – and he was nothing if not vengeful. But another part of him wanted this to last forever because… he hadn’t realized how starved he was… how lonely... how dark his life had become. Rey wanting him was like a beacon of light. 

Her hands slid over his chest, up his neck, and into his hair.

He dragged his hands over her silky skin and he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her, ratcheting up the tension with a devilish push of his tongue against hers and was satisfied when she groaned into his mouth.

It became his singular mission in life to hear her make that sound again. 

He cupped a hand around her hip and used his other to squeeze a perfect breast. His thumb toyed with the nipple and she groaned again.

 _Yes, Rey,_ he thought, _we’re just getting warmed up._

He half lifted, half dragged her into the bedroom, kissing her voraciously the whole way. She clung to him like he was a lifeline.

By the time they made it to the bed, she was panting. He pushed her down and lifted an eyebrow at her. She landed leaning back, propped on her elbows. The look on her face could have started a wildfire.

He took a brief moment to look at her. Her chest was heaving, her face flushed, and she was nude except for her ridiculous sparkly shoes. He ripped his t-shirt off and she moaned at the sight of his pecs.

_Oh, this was going to be sooo good._

And then she parted her legs, just a bit… an invitation.

He sucked more air into his lungs and pulled off his pants and boxers, leaning over her on the bed with one arm to brace himself while he pulled off his shoes and socks, too. She stroked his bare chest. She reached for his erection and wrapped a hand around him. _Fuck, that felt good._

He hissed an inhale and she said, “Ben. Please.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he muttered darkly. “Not yet. I promised I would make you sorry, and I fully intend to.”

He pinned her wrists over her head with one hand. He stroked down her body with the other, smoothing over her collarbone, her breasts, tweaking at a nipple before moving down until it was resting between her legs. She was dripping wet.

“Hmm. Feels like you’ve been thinking about _this_ all night, too,” he murmured into her ear. He gave her a gentle squeeze in emphasis.

She moaned and said again more urgently, “Ben. _Please_. I want you. I don’t know – I don’t know how much longer I can wait…”

“You’ve been making me wait since I overheard you last night in the shower,” he said quietly.

She glanced at him in surprise.

“That’s right. I heard everything. I stood right here and listened to your filthy little moans…I wondered what – who – would make you do such a thing…” He swept a finger into her wet heat. "I was _right_ here."

She gave him a ragged sigh and a squirm of her hips.

“It made me wonder what you might like, what you might want. _What makes you come_.” Each declaration was punctuated by a stroke of his long finger and the brush of his thumb against her clit. He was relentless, refusing to look away from her, refusing to give her more than just a hint of penetration.

She was lifting her hips in desperation. She was _almost_ incoherent.

_That was good, but not good enough._

He pulled his hand off her wrists and slid his arms under her thighs as he moved over her, hovering just above…

“Was this what you were thinking about last night?” he asked curiously. He swept his tongue into the wet folds of her sex.

She gasped and groaned again, this time more urgently.

He stroked her with his tongue again and gripped her legs so she couldn’t move, spreading them wide.

Rey was writhing on the bed, trying to get him to do …more. _Oh, she’s definitely frustrated_ … But he just watched her. Waiting.

“Ben. Please. I’m begging,” she groaned.

“I’m not trying to make you beg,” he said wickedly, “I’m trying to make you sorry.”

He swept down and his tongue traced her with slow, teasing strokes. He was punishing her in the worst possible way.

“I’m trying to make you understand what it feels like to be toyed with…” He gave her a few gentle laps of his tongue. “I feel like I really need to drive the point home…you understand?”

His hands held her thighs locked in place and he could feel her struggle to move. But, no, it was now – finally - his turn to tease her into mindless oblivion. She didn’t get to come.

_Not. Just. Yet._

“I’m _sorry_!” she gritted out.

“Are you?” His tongue lapped at her, a bit more forcefully this time.

 _Yes_. “Yes!”

“Very sorry?” he asked. She was thrashing her head back and forth. She grabbed his hair.

“Yes!” she was almost shouting.

He sucked a gentle kiss over her clit and moaned into her. She braced her feet and rocked her hips into his face, fighting against his iron grip as he finally used enough pressure with his mouth to bring her closer to the edge…she was so close, he could tell.

“Say you’re sorry, Rey.”

“I’m. Fucking. _Sorry_!” She didn’t sound very sincere, but while he may have been an asshole, he wouldn’t be cruel. Not to her. He kept his mouth locked on her…and right when she was _there_ , he pushed two fingers into her slickness, and she came.

The feeling of her pussy clenching around his fingers was incredible. But he didn’t stop with his mouth until she was finished.

She lay there in the aftershocks and eyed his massive erection as he stood.

“That didn’t sound like a very sincere apology…”

In one smooth motion, he lifted her legs under his arms and slid right into her.

This time she did scream. His name.

“Oh, _fuck_ , you feel so good,” he groaned as he slid home.

“Oh. My. God.” She gasped.

He pulled out and slammed into her again, harder this time.

She raked her nails down his chest like a hellcat and this time he was the one to gasp.

He slammed into her again and leaned down to suck the rosy tip of her breast.

“Ben! _Fuck_!”

He could feel her shuddering, she was getting close again, and he wasn’t having it end just yet.

He pulled out and flipped her around, snagging her hips into his as he knelt behind her. At this angle, she had nothing to hold onto for leverage; she was totally at his mercy as he thrust into her again, savagely.

Her arms reached over her head to grab him by the hair even as he pumped into her at a relentless pace. He knew he was big enough to be hitting her deep, and he felt her clench around him with each thrust.

The sounds she was making were ferocious.

 _Not. Quite. There. Yet_.

He kept one hand on her hip and moved the other to stroke the front of her, squeezing a breast here, teasing her clit there…

He was almost beyond words himself and could only bite out, “Fuck. You’re. So. Hot.”

He shoved her forward onto her hands and knees and pushed himself into her again and again. He leaned back so he could watch himself disappear into her soft, welcoming heat. The sight made his head spin. He swept a hand over the dimples on her lower back and almost lost control.

_Not. Quite. Yet._

His breathing was ragged and she was bucking against him wildly. But no. He wanted to see her face when she came. At that moment, there was nothing else he needed.

When he pulled out again she screamed in frustration, but her voice was hoarse.

He flipped her onto her back and spread her legs again. Her eyes were glazed and she was glaring at him.

“Mad at me?” he panted. “Sorry yet?”

“Yes,” she snarled at him.

“Good.”

He pushed his straining length into her and she was so hot and wet and tight and _fucking perfect_.

And then he unleashed it all, every bit of agonizing lust and dark passion he had, rocking his hips into hers with perfect rhythm. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him into her. He could feel the heels of her shoes digging into his back. The sweat from their bodies heightening each push. The softness of her thighs cushioning his thrusting hips. Her passionate moans of encouragement.

And it could have been hours or minutes, but when he felt it – the tension –

_The breath before the start._

It came upon him so fast – like lightning whipping through his veins – the last thing he would know until _after_. He watched her fall apart beneath him. He snapped his hips, driving into her ruthlessly.

Kylo watched her face as she came and felt her pussy gripping him like a vice, pulling him under, and he threw himself into oblivion with her. Into the shuddering bliss. The wild surrender.

And then.

 _After_.

He would never be the same.

 

 


	13. Berlioz Night of a Witch’s Sabbath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has a bit of an existential crisis, even as he becomes more entangled in a web of his own making...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: First off, yay! More smut! Also, I know we are getting a lot from Kylo’s POV lately, but Rey’s turn is coming! Finally, please be advised that there is some description and allusion to torture and a brutal murder at the end of the chapter. If you want to skip over it, stop reading after Kylo arrives at the warehouse. More on that in my notes at the end.

In the aftermath, it was all he could do not to fall on top of her and crush her.

Kylo simply took in quaking breath after breath, arms straining, neck bowed, as he soaked in the vision of her as she came down with him. They were both coated in a fine sheen of sweat, and he knew his face was as flushed as hers. He could feel aftershocks shiver through her body.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered as he kissed the side of her neck, gently stroking her breast. “That was unbelievable.”

She writhed against him and whimpered, “Yes.”

He kissed her softly, forehead pressed to hers. She was staring at him in amazement. They hovered like that for a small eternity.

Then, he disengaged his body from hers, stretched out beside her, and pulled her into him. After a minute or two, she dozed off.

The last thought he had before he dozed with her was that he needed to meet up with Phasma in a few hours. He would have to wear Rey out and hope she would sleep through his absence…

 

Sometime later, Kylo disentangled himself from her and went into the bathroom to clean himself up and retrieve a dampened washcloth for Rey. She had to be feeling like an uncomfortable sticky mess. She was awake and watching him when he came back into the room.

He stayed quiet as he gently rubbed her down and cleaned her up, carefully unstrapping the shoes she was still wearing and tossing them over the edge of the bed. When he was done, he stretched himself out on top of her, bracing his arms on either side so he wouldn’t crush her. He leaned over and did everything he could to kiss the breath out of her.

Her arms wound around his neck, and her hands clutched his hair as she kissed him back fervently.

He could feel her skin heating under his hands as she arced into him. She was so soft. He wanted more. He reveled in the contrast of her silky-smooth legs brushing against his hair-roughened ones.

He traced a path of kisses across her jaw to her ear, then whirled his tongue around the edge. _She likes that_. He gently bit her earlobe and listened to her gasp and felt her hands pulling at his hair.

He kissed his way down her throat all the way to the faint outline of her ribcage. As his tongue flickered over her he felt her breathing quicken and catch.

“You like that?” he whispered against her skin.

In response, her hands moved to grasp his shoulders, tracing and squeezing his muscles.

He moved his mouth to the delicate skin of her breasts, sweeping his head from one to the other, taking an occasional pull on a puckered nipple. She _definitely_ liked that, because she moaned softly each time he did it.

He spent a few long minutes enjoying the velvety texture of her skin on his tongue and her warm, arching body under his. His hands swept over her sides, up her arms, down her back…she pulled at his hair and stroked her hands down his chest, over his abs…then lower.

“Is _that_ what you want, Rey?” he inquired starkly, holding himself just out of her reach.

“Yes,” she implored, kissing him. “Please.” The whispered word against his mouth made him ache to be inside her again.

He rolled around so she could straddle him. Her warm weight on his thighs made his blood thrum towards his groin.

He was painfully hard as she reached down to grab his erection. Her hands were warm and soft and amazing. He lightly held her hips as she stroked him.

He watched as she hovered over him and rubbed her dripping center over the sensitive tip of his cock, priming him with her body's wetness. He hissed, sucking air through his teeth. _Fuck, she’s hot_.

As she slowly impaled herself on him, her head fell back. He growled in approval as he slid into her slick heat. _Wet. Tight_.

As she plunged herself down onto him over and over, and the soft sucking sound of their bodies sliding together was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. Every nerve ending he had felt like a stripped wire: Raw, electrified, and exposed.

She rocked her hips over him, cradling him with her thighs, sheathing his hardness in her scorching-hot pussy. She gently scored his abdomen with her nails. Every move she made drew a husky groan from his throat. _Damn, she is beautiful_.

He flexed his hips up to meet her rhythm. _Deeper_.

He held onto her hips to anchor their bodies together.

He watched her breasts jiggle and bounce as she rode him more intently now, and he _wanted. More_. His fingers dug into the curves of her hips as he pushed up into her harder then dragged her down onto him with an increased urgency. _So good._

He fucking loved the soft little _umm_ sound that came out of her mouth every time he hit deep. He grunted loudly in response each time, matching her noises with his own.

“Ben,” she breathed.

He gripped her harder and began pumping into her in earnest now. _Closer._

“Yes?”

“ _Ben!_ ”

She was beginning to collapse onto him, hands braced on his chest as he took over the pace, leaning up and roughly pulling her onto him with furious thrusts.

“Yes?” he hissed in question, his eyes locking on hers.

“Ben, please, oh Ben –“ she was starting to sound frantic…she bit her bottom lip…

“Yes? You want this?” he was losing himself in her desperate eyes.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuated each thrust with a rub of his thumb against her clit. His eyes pierced hers in question. He already knew the answer. He just wanted her to _say it_.

“Yes!”

She was getting _really_ worked up now. _Perfect_.

He could feel her body clenching around him.

“Say it, Rey. Tell me what you want.” He bared his teeth at her as he said it, his eyes burning into hers.

“Ben. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” She was getting louder. She was molten heat in his hands and surrounding his cock. _Fuck, yes._

“You want more?” he asked her, a diabolical gleam in his eye. She grunted in response.

“Yes?” he asked her again roughly, giving her another fierce pump and grind of his hips. Her nails were digging into his arms, and she was glaring at him with manic hunger.

“Yes? _Say_ it!” he barked.

“Ben!”  

He leaned up and caught a nipple in his mouth, even as kept rocking into her. _Yes_.

He sucked hard and she screamed for him to fuck her.

He felt a surge of primal satisfaction. _Oh, yes._

He felt her thighs spasm and her body squeeze him in rippling contractions. She was coming. _Hard_.

He kept going until the blissful pressure dragged him into the swirling hot darkness with her, loudly gasping at the exquisite pleasure she was wringing from him.

He poured himself into her with a few more vicious thrusts and a guttural moan.

 

She collapsed into a sweaty, sobbing heap on his chest, and he moved a hand to tangle in her hair.

After a few minutes when her breathing slowed and he caught his breath, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, my god, yes…I’ve just never…” She moaned.

“Come that hard?” he finished for her.

“Never.” She stared at him and cupped his face in her hands. Then she kissed him on the lips and murmured, “Thank you.”

He stroked her sweaty hair back from her forehead and pulled her head down onto his chest.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

 

There was no way he could sleep after what had happened that night. Everything had changed.

Everything had become crystal clear.

He felt like the foulest kind of monster - unclean and unworthy – that had emerged from the darkest pit and felt the sun for the first time. He felt…pierced clean through. He wondered if it were remotely possible that her light was somehow scrubbing the stains from his blackened soul.

But no. _Nothing_ could ever do that.

Just because he wanted something to be true, did not mean it was. Kylo was nothing if not realistic.

Kylo Ren knew himself better than anyone. He was possessive, dangerous, manipulative, violent, temperamental, and selfish. He expertly used these attributes to serve his master and take what he wanted from everyone else, and it had brought him _so much_ power. The fact he had a rare and nearly unmatched gift for music did not - nor would it ever - excuse some of the things he’d done. _Nor should it._

He’d just never cared to consider how he might justify his actions to anyone. He’d never really had to consider it … until now.

Proceeding with any kind of an affair with Rey would be the worst thing he could do to her.

There were so many reasons why it was wrong for him to want Rey, to want to disassemble and consume every part of her, down to the last scrap of her soul, so that she would never be separated from him. It wouldn’t even be that hard. He was already starting down that path… and he was _soooo_ good at demolition. He’d been built for it, trained for it, and physically and mentally weaponized to be one thing: A deadly, destructive … _monster_.

And Rey was as pure and beautiful as a priceless stained-glass window. Colorful and multi-faceted, gorgeous to behold, and so full of light. His true nature would inevitably smash hers into pieces even if he would willingly crawl through the jagged shards, and in being cut a thousand times feel something – anything - to take away whatever this … other… feeling was.

Part of him knew he would not be able to resist Rey if she continued to offer herself to him, and he _knew_ she would. It was sick how well he knew exactly how to play this situation, how well he’d played on her desire tonight. He’d wanted it, and he’d taken it.

He also knew he would take anything she was willing to give him; he’d crawl for it. Beg for it.

But she would never make him do that. And Kylo knew that, too.

She was strong, though. Even after being bullied by him, shot at, and swept away into the world of darkness of lust where he existed, she was strong. Any one of those things might have shaken a weaker person. No, she was strong and resilient. She was a survivor. And she had managed to retain that light inside her, in spite of everything.

He just had to hope that Rey’s strength would be enough for her to save herself from him when the time finally came... until that point, he would have to do everything in his power to make sure she would be okay at the end…and maybe have enough mercy left inside her to keep a fond memory or two of him…

Kylo Ren knew he was already a condemned man. It was only a matter of time before his choices would catch up with him. He knew at some point – possibly soon – his life would end and it would be ugly and violent. He was not a man destined for happiness.

So, for now, he would take whatever scraps he could, knowing his fate was already sealed. He would try to make it last for as long possible but always with the endgame in mind.

After leaving Rey asleep in his bed, he threw on black jeans and a t-shirt, motorcycle boots, and a leather jacket. He had also slipped his gun and knife into their holsters strapped around his side. It was very early in the morning, and according to Phasma’s message, she’d taken care of all but the last of the _targets_.

When he arrived at the old warehouse near the docks, Ren did not look like a world-famous concert pianist, not that he wanted to. As he made his way to the location Phasma had given him, Ren was unafraid of attackers. Anyone at a certain level within the complex hierarchy of the criminal underworld would know _exactly_ who he was. He was so far up the chain of command in Snoke’s section of the _Bratva_ that most people even knew a bit about him. As in, don’t fuck with him. Or even look at him, unless you had to.

Most petty criminals were usually deterred by his size and the way he carried himself. Nobody _ever_ messed with Kylo Ren.

He went into the dank, empty space of the warehouse and noted with satisfaction that Hux was discreetly on the lookout in an upper balcony. Other than a curt nod between them, they did not acknowledge each other.

Ren went towards the back of the warehouse and pulled aside blood-spattered plastic curtains. The smell of blood was thick in the air, but he made no indication that it bothered him.

He walked into a scene that looked like it had come from a horror movie, but he remained completely calm. He had seen this type of scene too many times now to be outwardly affected by it.

Phasma, still wearing her ballgown from last night, was also wearing bright yellow kitchen gloves smeared with blood. She was leaning over a man tied to an old work table.

“Oh, good, you’re here," she said nonchalantly. "I told our friend here I’d stop when you arrived, but only if he would be ready to talk.”

Ren was unconcerned as to how long Phasma might have drawn out the man’s suffering, as long as he eventually spilled the information they needed.

The man whimpered. Ren registered that the man was staring at him with pleading eyes. As if Ren would help him.

Ren exhaled. “You don’t like her do you?” He gestured his head towards the woman standing next to him.

His eyes were as cold as black ice. “Tell me everything,” Ren spoke the words softly as if he were ordering a cappuccino or giving directions to a stranger.

Phasma stood next to him, unblinking, simply holding the bloody – what was it this time? An ice pick? Letter opener? – it didn’t matter.

She had been very careful to make sure the person in front of her remained able to see, hear, and talk. And when the time came, those under her hands always talked. Eventually.

“He’s either with Uralmash or the Georgians, but he won’t say which faction. He did say they were ordered to take the _Hammer_ as an act of revenge on the _First Order._ It means they _knew_ the minute that the violin was transferred to your friend, and they were organized enough to try to take it within a day of the transfer.”

“Is this true?” Ren asked the man on the table, quietly.

“ _Da_.” The man groaned. Phasma looked at Ren.

“Tell me which faction you’re with,” he said politely.

The man groaned again, shaking his head.

Ren leaned in until he was inches away from the man’s face. His eyes flickered over the man emotionlessly.

He waited until the man locked eyes with his and said, “If you don’t, I’m going to tell _her_ to give you some water and let you have a rest. To keep you alive longer, you understand? It will be the last moments of your life that you won’t feel agonizing pain...” Ren gestured towards Phasma again before continuing, “Then, I’m going to leave you here with _her_ until you won’t be able to remember anything before pain. She can make it go for an impressively long time. Is that what you want?”

The man’s eyes grew wide with terror. Any glimmer of hope he might have had evaporated under the ruthless stare of the dark-eyed man before him. He glanced to the woman in the ballgown, standing just off to the side. Her eyes were like chrome, hard, and cold as metal, reflecting absolutely no compassion whatsoever.

Ren did not have to repeat himself. The man had barely spoken the word “Uralma-“ before Phasma leaned over to spear him smoothly between the ribs with a wickedly long stiletto blade.

When the man on the table finally stopped twitching, Ren turned to Phasma asking, “Do I need to call the Cleaner?” Several bodies were piled next to the wall, wrapped in more plastic sheeting.

“Already done. He will be here within the hour.”

“Good.”

Ren turned around without looking back and said, simply, “Your apartment is ready for you. I’ll text you the address. We begin next week. Get some sleep.”

“Yes,” Phasma said, wiping the gory blade on her ballgown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Endnote:  
> Let’s remember that Kylo has been working for some really bad guys for the past thirteen years. Yes, he received musical training, but his talent was already basically there. He was also trained to be Snoke’s personal attack dog. He has seen and done some bad shit. Snoke got hold of him at an impressionable age and Kylo was vulnerable; he has since been twisted into a very dangerous person. He has been taught look past an individual’s humanity in order to get what he wants. 
> 
> This is why it is so difficult for him to reconcile his feelings for Rey, and for his family, although those feelings are more latent. (Keep in mind that most people who have abandonment issues do NOT go pursuing a career as an international mobster.) But, remember that Kylo also leads the Knights of Ren. So, it follows that no matter how bad they are, he is at the head: He’s not the nicest dude on the planet, nor is Phasma, no matter how likable she is. 
> 
> Also, all my stuff on Russian mafia I pretty much googled, so I hope I didn’t fuck anything up too much with names or methods or anything... :)


	14. Bach Toccata and Fugue in D Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens…

As he left the warehouse, Kylo pulled out his phone and called Snoke. He needed to let him know that Uralmash was in New York and causing problems…and that it was most likely because of something he had done.

“Ah, yeeesss,” Snoke chuckled from the other end of the phone. “I imagine they would be quite upset about that bit of work you did three years ago…”

Kylo remembered. He had been playing chamber music with the Knights of Ren; the performance tour had been wildly successful. So had the _other_ job.

It had been a brutal job. The performance tour had “conveniently” coincided with a particularly important arms deal happening between Uralmash and one of the First Order’s “customers” – clearly a violation, in Snoke’s opinion. Snoke had been furious and ordered the Knights of Ren in no uncertain terms to take out the entire family. _Nobody_ stepped on First Order turf.

Kylo and his Knights had taken a risk on this one because most factions of the _Bratva_ knew exactly who they were and could easily track their whereabouts when they were performing. When the entire family of Uralmash’s leadership had been found strangled by piano wires the day before the deal had gone down…well, it was pretty obvious who had done it. But nobody would step up to them: The First Order was far too powerful. An act of revenge would be suicide.

It had not only been a message to other factions within the _Bratva_ – stay off our turf – but had been a blow to the leadership of the other faction. After the Knights of Ren had decimated most of the top bosses, Uralmash was just a shadow of what it had once been. Snoke and the First Order had been able to step in and take over most of their business with relative ease.

But, Uralmash was still out there and apparently wanted vengeance.

“We may have a mole,” Kylo reminded his boss. “They knew about the _Hammer_ and transfer of legal ownership within a day…I’m concerned their attempts for revenge will cause problems for the … other thing we are working on.”

“Well, figure it out, Ren. I imagine you will be able to play along in your other _role_?” Snoke’s emphasis was unmistakable. Kylo could only worry that Rey might be a target.

“Yes, well, as you said earlier, we have bait,” Snoke said, cannily reading the direction of Kylo’s thoughts, “and we can use that to our advantage. Draw them out. Get rid of them. Quickly. I don’t want distractions from our primary goal.”

“The three of us can handle this,” Kylo assured Snoke, referring to himself, Hux, and Phasma.

“I _know_ you can. You wouldn’t dare fail me.” Snoke hissed at Kylo’s presumption. “I will have the other Knights take care of those sniveling Uralmash dogs here…”

“Yes, Master,” Kylo said.

“Keep me informed.” Snoke hung up on him.

Kylo almost hurled his phone into the side of a nearby brick building. _Fuck. Fuck._

Using Rey as bait to draw out the remaining Uralmash gang in New York would have them both walking on a knife’s edge of hazard, and Rey would have no idea. 

Kylo was fine with putting himself in harm’s way…but Rey…he’d never hated himself so much.

 

Rey woke up to the sun just beginning to filter into the room. It was just past seven o’clock in the morning and Ben wasn’t in bed with her. _That’s strange_.

She listened for the shower running or music from the piano. Nothing.

She climbed out of bed and groaned. And then last night – _all_ of last night – punched through her mind like a fist.

 _Ben’s eyes_. The way he had devoured her with them as he’d moved over her… _in her_ …

 _Ben’s mouth_. His wickedly sexy lips on her skin…the way he’d kissed her, drawing her to a fever-pitch of desire…

 _Ben’s hands_.

She felt a slow blush creep over her face as she recalled just what exactly he had done with those beautiful long fingers of his.

He’d been so fierce, so demanding. He’d made her beg and say she was sorry. He’d taken nothing less than her complete surrender…and she’d loved every minute of it.

_Where is he?_

Maybe he’d gone for a run. _But why? After everything_ …?

Rey was genuinely perplexed. In her limited experience, it was not typical to wake up from a night of passion alone. Although passion seemed like too small of a word for her to describe what had happened…so why wasn’t he here?

Rey wandered out to the balcony. Ben was not in the suite. She came back into the living room, more concerned now.

She glanced down at the phone on the end table. There was a blinking light. A message. Perhaps something had happened.

Rey felt a guilty pang as she pressed the message button.

 _“Mr. Ren, this is Jessica with your attorney’s office. We received your calls Friday evening and yesterday morning regarding the_ Hammer _but were unable to reach your cell phone to confirm your request. I was asked to leave a message with you at this number to notify you we will proceed as you requested.”_

A sickening anxiety began to crawl through her.

Luke’s words came back to her mind. _“Has it occurred to you that Ben – Kylo – might be lying to you? Has it occurred to you that he might be trying to manipulate you into giving him the_ Hammer _?”_

Ben had called his lawyer _Friday_ evening. He had threatened Luke with lawyers during their confrontation right after rehearsal. She’d been with him mostly all that night. He’d called his lawyers – when? While he’d been waiting for her in the car? When she’d been in the shower?

Her thoughts fell to the conversation they’d had after they’d been shot at…and when they’d been talking about the letters. When she told Ben she wanted to go confront Luke immediately…he’d asked her to tell him about the _Hammer_ , instead…

And he’d called his lawyers again yesterday morning. _After that conversation_.

_“… I know him. Or knew him. I know exactly how selfish he can be.”_

Rey felt a stab of dread pierce her heart.

 _No_. There was no way Ben would have slept with her, done the things he’d done…for the _Hammer_ …

Rey’s dread increased as she realized that Luke had never lied to her before… and Ben…

How well did she really even know him?

_Could he really do something like that?_

She tried to think objectively about the last two days… Ben had been angry. He’d mentioned lawyers. He had obviously wanted that violin… Had he decided to try to get the _Hammer_ from her in a far less complicated way…?

_Had he even written those letters?_

Rey felt a wave of doubt crash through her.

_Where was he?_

 

By the time Kylo returned to the hotel, he was exhausted. He’d not really slept for days. He was worried sick over how he was going to keep Rey safe… _use her as bait_ …

He entered the bedroom silently. But it turned out stealth wasn’t needed. Rey wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the suite at all.

 _Fuck_.

The first call he made was to the front desk.

“Yes, Mr. Adams? How can I help you this morning?”

“Er. Yeah, I was wondering if my … sister had stopped by this morning to pick up anything out of the vault?”

“Yes, sir. She stopped by about forty minutes ago.”

“Did she mention where she was headed?” Kylo tried to keep his voice calm.

“She did not, sir.”

“Um. Do you know if she left on foot? Or by car?”

“She had me call her a cab, Mr. Adams. Is everything all right?”

 _Fuck. No, it_ wasn’t _fucking all right._

“Yes, fine. Thank you.” Kylo hung up and tried to think.

Rey was out there in the middle of New York City, likely being hunted by a bunch of Russian mobsters who wouldn’t hesitate to brutally kill her and take the _Hammer_.

The _Hammer_ was almost an afterthought at this point, but Kylo realized Russian gang members were not the only animals who might be attracted to a young, beautiful woman wandering the city with a valuable musical instrument…

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Compressing his rising panic through sheer force of will, Kylo called Phasma, but she didn’t answer. She was most likely getting cleaned up from her night’s work, or sleeping.

He considered calling Hux. But Hux would most likely be with Phasma, and he’d had the same long night she’d had. And Kylo _loathed_ Hux.

_Think. Where would she go?_

_Forty minutes. She could be just about anywhere if she’d called a cab._

_Where would she go?_

_Luke? No, she is pissed at Luke._

_Her apartment. Is she stupid enough to go back there? No. Way._

And on the heels of that thought _, why did she leave?_

 

Rey stepped into her apartment and realized it didn’t feel like hers anymore. The past two days had been such a whirlwind of excitement and danger and glamour and her concert performance and … _after_. _Ben_.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind and was pleased to note everything looked as it should. Good. Maybe the shooters had just been randomly trying to carjack Ben and her... Maybe they hadn’t known she had a Stradivarius violin worth millions…

She set the case carefully on her bed and opened it. The _Hammer_ glowed back at her and Rey smiled at it unconsciously. She lifted it from the case and examined it carefully. It was so gorgeous.

And overwhelming. To think she, Rey from Nowhere, a nobody, owned an instrument that had been played by Paganini and Anakin Skywalker himself… it was a lot to take in.

_And it belonged to Ben Solo, too, don’t forget that._

Rey sighed. She looked around her apartment and recalled how Phasma had asked her to be roommates.

Would it be awkward to be roommates with a friend of Ben’s? Rey didn’t think so. She got the impression that Ben and Phasma didn’t hang out too much. They seemed more like reluctant siblings who didn’t really have anyone else. Phasma hadn’t mentioned family at all.

 _I’m doing it_ , Rey decided.

Rey was an excellent judge of character. Plus, Phasma would also be a co-worker, which would be great – they could talk shop together. And Phasma was fun.

It might be nice to have an understanding person in her life if she were being honest.

Rey remembered something Luke had said to her once, right after she’d moved into the orphanage. She had been terribly shy and rebuffed several overtures of friendship from the other children. It had been easier to be alone, she’d thought then…Until Luke had said one day, “You’ll never regret making a friend, Rey. And you can never have too many.”

At the time Luke had said that Rey had been reminded of Ben, and how he’d reached out to her, pulled her through the window. Taught her about music. Her first friend.

She’d never regretted it. Not even now.

Whatever was happening with Ben, Rey knew something was going on with him. Even if Ben was going to try to get the _Hammer_ back from her, she still had to try to move on with her life. Even after the most incredible sex she’d ever had. _Especially_ after that.

_Admittedly, my past encounters haven’t been all that amazing…not compared to him._

How would she ever be able to look him in the eye again?

Glancing around her room, Rey decided to text Phasma, letting her know she’d take her up on her offer.

 _At least I don’t have much stuff to move_ , she thought, trying to stay positive.

 

Rey was excited to get to work after a week off. It had been a busy week, moving into Phasma’s new place. Phasma had a gorgeous apartment near Lincoln Center. Rey adored it there.

However, in spite of the excitement, Rey was heartbroken. She had to reconcile herself to the fact that Ben _had_ been using her, apparently. She had not received a call or note or anything from him after she’d left...it had been like those two days with him had never happened. She was hurt and disappointed.

_Now is not the time. Put on your brave face, Rey. Don’t think about him._

The practice room at Lincoln Center was basically a large hall, with step-like tiers in a half-circle around the room. The orchestra was seated by section as they would sit onstage, but the room itself was much less formal. Rey liked it – the soundproofed walls and high ceiling gave the room a cozy feeling, in her opinion.

Orchestra members were allowed to wear casual clothes to practice, which was a nice reprieve from the starched suits and fancy dresses required during performances. It made playing the music more intimate, more comfortable.

Rey was Concertmaster, so when she wasn’t performing as a soloist, one of her jobs was to notate how the violin parts should be played on her sheet music and share it with the other violinists. She was especially looking forward to finding out what music they would perform and who would be taking over for Luke Skywalker.

Everyone else seemed excited, too. Now that Luke had retired, there was an air of anticipation hanging in the room. The orchestra would find out today who would be the next season’s Artist in Residence and chief Conductor. Whoever it was would be mainly responsible for selecting the season’s scheduled program and conducting during rehearsals and performances.

Whoever it was, was late.

Rey smiled over at Phasma as she vigorously rubbed rosin onto the hair of her bow. Mr. Threepio was handing out sheets to everyone, which listed the music to be performed this season.

Rey was pleased to see several pieces she would enjoy playing, but she was surprised at the heavily Russian influence. In fact, many of the composers were Russians from the Romantic period… _interesting_. There were also a few violin and piano concertos on the docket. Rey tried not to think about piano…anything.

She listened to the idle chatter of her fellow musicians and waved to Finn, who played the oboe, and Rose, who played French horn. They had all become friends over the past year, and the trio had a standing Monday night appointment for beers at a local bar after work. Rey was excited to join them tonight and catch up on news.

The door to the rehearsal room opened abruptly, and Rey’s thoughts were interrupted as everyone glanced towards it at the same time, full of anticipation.

Rey froze, arms still holding rosin to her upraised bow.

Mr. Threepio adjusted the round glasses he wore and smiled approvingly, saying, “Ah, good. Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, I’d like to introduce this season’s Artist in Residence and chief Conductor, although I’m sure he needs no introduction.”

Mr. Threepio waved his hand grandly to the man storming towards the front of the room.

“Mr. Kylo Ren.”

Kylo’s eyes drilled into hers the minute he stepped into the room. Rey felt like she was going to faint.

 _Holy fuck_.

Panicked, Rey caught Phasma’s eye with a wild _Why didn’t you tell me_? look. Phasma mouthed the words, “I thought you knew!” and shrugged.

Rey dragged her eyes back to his. He looked furious. At her.

Kylo didn’t address Rey directly. He strode to the conductor’s podium and slapped down a large sheaf of paper onto it. It was apparently the conductor’s score for whatever piece they would be sight-reading today.

The room was deadly quiet.

Rey shakily set her bow and rosin down in the open violin case next to her chair and waited silently to see what happened next.


	15. Tchaikovsky Marche Slave/Slavic March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo starts his new job after a frustrating week.

By the time Kylo ordered Mitaka to check on her at the apartment, he’d calmed down enough to think somewhat clearly.

Rey was probably fine. He’d literally just watched Phasma dispatch the last of her attackers mere hours ago. Chances were very good that Uralmash didn’t even know they’d been made, yet.

However, the most galling part of Rey leaving had hit him on a much more personal level. Kylo was completely bewildered. After the night they’d just had…why would Rey leave without a word? And take the _Hammer_?

Kylo felt an uncomfortable sort of shame flow through him. She’d fallen apart in his arms. She’d given him complete surrender. She’d told him she’d never come so hard in her life…there was no way she could have faked that. _Was there?_

Could she really have slept with him…for the _Hammer_? Had the past couple of days just been an emotionless transaction for her?

Kylo took a moment to consider the lies he’d told to his past lovers in order to get what he wanted. Sex was always a weapon at his disposal and he’d never hesitated to use it. It had always been just one more tool in his arsenal of skills to be brought out if and when the occasion called for it…he’d never considered the idea of someone turning the tables and doing something similar to him… _especially Rey_ …

Why had she gotten into his car so quickly? He’d been surprised when she had, but it hadn’t occurred to him that she might try to take matters into her own hands. He had threatened lawyers. She might have been trying to preempt a messy legal battle.

Kylo thought about how she’d charmed him so completely after they’d been shot at. She had been stunned and shaken…and then promptly went into the shower and … had she guessed he would hear her? Had she been trying to manipulate him from the start?

And then they’d spoken of the letters he’d sent. Had she maybe gotten them and just never cared enough to write back all those years ago? Had she been feigning her outrage when they’d “discovered” together she’d never received them?

 _No._ Rey had _changed_ him. He had felt so drawn to her, amazed by her light, and uncharacteristically protective. And when she’d played at the concert…he’d been transformed yet again.

But then he remembered how Phasma had thrown so many innuendos at him, provoking him into thinking about Rey, wearing _that_ dress…and later, when she went onstage, after intermission… onstage without underwear? Who did that? _Phasma was so helpful…playing along…those two had obviously planned something…_

Kylo definitely wouldn’t put it past Phasma to take advantage of an opportunity to humiliate him, if for no other reason than Phasma tended to have a miles-wide sadistic streak…

And then later, at the party…Rey had been totally coming onto him. She’d been panting for it… _Hadn’t she?_

If she’d played him, she’d done it thoroughly. Even now, pissed off and confused, Kylo still wanted her. He was just … so disappointed. He had felt a twinge of hope. Something that he hadn’t felt for a long time…and realistically, he knew that hope was a futile thing to have. It had been his first hard lesson with Snoke. His disappointment melted into anger, his most reliable emotion.

 

Mitaka called a little while later, to let him know it looked like Rey had gone to the corner deli to pick up some empty boxes. “Should I make contact with her, sir?”

While part of him wanted to storm over to her place and do something that would probably be incredibly moronic, another part of him realized that if he appeared overly interested in her it would only draw attention by the wrong people.

He hated himself for still caring about her, so he pushed that thought to the side.

“No. Just keep an eye on her. She’s probably packing so she can move in with Phasma. She’s Phas’s cover for the next few months.” _And bait._

“Yes, sir.” Mitaka was excellent at his job.

“We need to keep her saf- secure. She could still be a target for Uralmash and she’s too valuable an _asset_ to lose.”

Kylo felt a sick burning sensation in his gut. _Asset_.

 _That deceptive little bitch._ She’d fucked him, played games with him, and left this morning with the _Hammer_ as if he’d meant not a thing…

The barbed wire in his heart began to sprout back like a vicious weed. Revenge was a game he knew all too well, and he knew he’d be seeing her next week.

_Let’s keep that little surprise to ourselves, shall we?_

By the end of the week, Kylo was in the worst mood he’d been in for years. He was running on minimal sleep, not to mention the extreme sexual frustration that had been simmering under his skin every time he thought of _her_.

The lack of sleep was entirely her fault, too. In addition to having to plan with Phasma and Hux for the next phase of their primary objective, Kylo had spent every spare moment of the week taking turns with Mitaka to guard Rey and root out the remaining Uralmash members.

His anger with Rey expanded exponentially every time he found himself having to save her life while she’d been wandering the city alone.

And he’d had to do it on _three_ separate occasions. Mitaka had even taken out a suspicious guy following her around, although they had later determined it was just a mugger.

Compounded by all of _that_ extreme bullshit was the fact that Phasma was getting snarky with him while refusing to relay any details about life with Rey. It infuriated him to no end that the one thing he prized so much about working with Phas – her ability to stick to the job and keep her mouth shut – was now working entirely against him.

Kylo couldn’t ask Phas any of the stuff he really wanted to know, like, did Rey have a boyfriend? Had she moved on? Did she seem happy? Upset? Smug? Any other hearts she’d mentioned ripping out with her beautiful little claws that week? He could only dance around the issue or he knew Phasma would be onto him.

Kylo sighed tiredly. He desperately wanted to ask Phasma about Rey’s emotional state, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Besides, Phasma was very keen and would probably immediately pick up on his unnaturally high concern about a mere pawn in a much larger game.

“She’s fine, Ren, I told you,” Phasma repeated for the third time that day. “I assume you’re calling me in the middle of the night for a reason?”

He was. “Snoke called. The Knights have decimated Uralmash over there, and we’ve got most of them taken out here. Hux’s information couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“Well, he does have his uses,” Phasma murmured.

Hux had an unparalleled network of spies in New York _and_ Washington D.C. He was currently playing the role of diplomatic attaché at the United Nations, which would soon be hosting an upcoming arms summit.

Kylo grudgingly had to admit that, without Hux’s information on the Uralmash members in New York, he would never have found them and wiped them out so quickly.

“Well, I think we’ve got everyone, then. Keep Rey…happy. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on the Strad and use her as cover. Don’t mention to her I’ll be conducting this season, either. I don’t want her backing out at the last minute. We need her too much.” _I need her._

“She’s pissed at you, you know? She’ll not like it that I’ve kept that from her,” Phasma said casually.

_Is she pissed at me? Oh really? Playing that fucking card are we, sweetheart?_

“Well, I don’t give a shit about her feelings, Phas. All I want is that Strad kept safe,” Kylo lied.

Rey was nothing but trouble.

If she’d just been using him to get her greedy little mitts on his Strad, then that meant she was nothing more than a prostitute. And he was a gullible fool.

Kylo felt shame and anger mix in his gut like a chemical reaction and clenched a fist. He might not be good at hope, but he was excellent at revenge.

 

**Back to Present…**

Kylo took a breath as he stood at the podium and made eye contact with the orchestra members who were eyeing him with varying degrees of trepidation. Upon realizing this particular job required something in the way of people skills…a thing that usually took him a bit of effort…Kylo turned up the charm by several large notches.

“Everyone. It’s an honor to be here,” he said, deliberately easing up on the intensity he knew he’d been emitting like radiation.

He’d known Rey would be here. But the first sight of her had infuriated him and relieved him at the same time. Knowing she was safe was different when seeing it with his own eyes; he never fully trusted his spies’ reports when it came to things that were important.

_How could she have left me for a fucking violin?_

“I’m quite excited for a very special season.” Kylo smiled faintly, afraid it was probably coming out more like a grimace. But the room seemed to relax. He could always control a room with his charisma. He would be counting on that particular skill over the next few months.

_She looks angry at me! Ha! She has no fucking idea what anger fucking looks like…_

“As you can see by the list Mr. Threepio handed out,” he continued, making pointed eye contact with everyone in the room except Rey, “We will be spending quite a bit of time in Russia this season.” The players chuckled, further dissipating the tension in the room.

_I get to be the angry one. You fucking left without a word. I’m so onto you, Rey..._

“You may know I attended the Palpatine Music School for several years and have lived in Russia for the past decade or so. I hope to bring some of my training to you, just as I hope to learn about each and every one of you.” That last statement he directly solely at Rey’s wide-eyed glare. He watched a flush creep over her face.

 _Good_.

“Today, we’ll be sight-reading Tchaikovsky’s _Marche Slave_ ,” Kylo dragged his gaze away from Rey and stepped up to the podium, opening the sheet music in front of him.

_Oh, we are so discussing this later, sweetheart._

“I’d like to do a full run-through, first, then we can work through it section by section.” He tapped the baton on the edge of the podium and lifted his hands.

 

There was a general shuffle as everyone swiftly moved their instruments into position and made sure their sheet music was in place. It was obvious everyone had been expecting a bit more of a speech or introduction of some kind, but they were eager to play together and interested to see how their new boss would approach conducting.

Rey couldn’t stop looking at him. He was here. Wearing black jeans and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt…the way that cotton clung to his arms and chest put butterflies in her stomach…and the way those jeans clung to those long, long legs, those lean hips, his muscled backside…

Rey lifted her violin automatically and tried to read the music in front of her. Thankfully it started slowly. However, she found herself focusing more on the music and less on _Ren_ , especially when the tightly-grouped sixteenth and thirty-second notes became a blur on the page at the tempo Ren had set.

_Okay, well, so he doesn’t like to take it too slow…_

Rey felt her face heat as she remembered the punishing pace at which he’d fucked her last week. _Pay attention, idiot. You’re mad at him, remember?_

As the orchestra played, Rey detected his assessment of each and every person in the room. She knew he was cataloging each player’s strengths and weaknesses and probably making mental notes on what he would address later. She didn’t know how he was doing this, but she felt his hawk-like gaze scan over her, too.

Although he was large and somewhat sinister in appearance, he moved with surprising grace, hands flowing into each section of the music that he barely had to glance at. He’d probably already memorized it. She remembered hearing rumors over the years that he was a genius with music.

His face revealed no emotion whatsoever. Whatever apparent anger he’d demonstrated earlier had been removed entirely as if a mask had slid in place. If anything, he appeared to be coolly professional, very polite, and almost disinterested. Rey knew that was when he was most dangerous. _Take off that dress for me, Rey._

They were nearing the finale, when Rey finally allowed her outrage to take reign. _How fucking dare he stand there so calmly, so emotionless, after he’d done what he’d done?_ Trying to take her violin behind her back was one thing... The fact that he’d convinced her to so enthusiastically have sex with him was entirely another point. And now he was _right_ here and she was entirely unprepared for the things it was doing to her.

He’d played with her heart. Then he’d gone behind her back.

As the finale built, so did her ire.

She was going to make that son-of-a-bitch pay.

It was very difficult to spend an entire day within seven or eight feet of someone with whom you were completely pissed off, but somehow Rey managed it.

As Ren worked them through each section of the music, part of her admired his vision and interpretation. Tchaikovsky could be disarmingly simple in his themes but some of the stylistic choices allowed for complex and beautiful motifs.

Ren seemed to already have a precise vision of his own interpretation and was actually quite engaging. Rey could tell that he had won over most of the people in the room before the first play-through. It wouldn’t be long before he’d have them eating out of the palms of his large, gorgeous, extremely talented hands…

She vowed to stay strong, and she rooted herself in her anger.

 

 

It had been a long day. Ren endured several long minutes of members of the orchestra introducing themselves and wanting to chat about minor things before he smiled charmingly and begged off.

“I’ve had an unbelievable week – utterly exhausted – will see you tomorrow –"


	16. Mozart Sonata for Piano and Violin in E-flat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey have a communication problem…

Finally. The day was over.

“Rey? Can I see you a moment? In my office?” Kylo admitted to himself he may have sounded a little harsh, but he was getting goddamn tired of whatever this was.

They stepped into his office, a small room down the hall from the practice room. Rey was seething with anger as she marched through the door. He waved her through with a sarcastic nod of his head and an exaggerated wave of his hand.

 _Is he upset with me?_ _Oh, no. He has no right._

He shut and locked the door, turning towards her. He was breathing in controlled, heavy breaths, jaw clenched, chin down, staring at her with what appeared to be righteous indignation.

Rey had never been so outraged in her life. He was standing there radiating fury – towards her – _How dare he be angry right now!_

All she wanted at that moment was to hurt him the way he’d hurt her.

Her eyes flashed as she stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was like the crack of a whip.

“That’s fair,” Kylo retorted with a bite to his voice.

The sound of her palm slapping his cheek the second time rang through the room like a gunshot.

Kylo’s head snapped to the side at the force of it.

And when he turned his face back to her, there was something… frightening …in his eyes.

Rey inhaled a sharp breath at the violence she’d just committed and at the disturbing look on the face of the man she’d just assaulted.

It was as if her slap had unmasked a creature within him, something deadly and foreign she’d never seen before – a beast well-hidden within. Just a glimpse of it was enough to pump a serious amount of adrenaline through her veins.

Kylo was livid.

He lunged at her and her world snapped into focus.

Kylo pulled her hands into his and wrapped his arms around her back, pinning her hands at the base of her spine. He wasn’t hurting her, but she could sense violence lying just under the surface.

“If you hit me again, I swear to God I’ll spank you like the child you are,” he growled at her. His eyes burned into hers like twin coals. He was deadly serious.

Rey swallowed but would not break his under his hostile glare.

“You fucking bastard,” she spat at him. She refused to back down, and she tried to wrench her arms free. “How dare you? How _dare_ you use me like that?”

 _Use her? Fuck._ Kylo felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. _She knew_. She knew he’d been using her as bait. _How did she know?_

But when she continued with, “After…that night… you left me, no call, no nothing. For a week!” his rage returned to full-throttle.

“How dare _I?_ You’re one to talk!” he spat wrathfully. “Let’s not forget how well you played _me_ , sweetheart. You knew exactly what you were doing – driving me right to the edge of sanity with your teasing and – well done! I might’ve known Phasma would put the idea into your head.”

“Idea of what?”

“The idea,” he leaned into her face, baring his teeth at her, “of _whoring_ that Strad away from me.”

“Whoring? _Whoring?_!” she was screaming, now, and she would’ve clawed his eyes out if he hadn’t been pinning her hands behind her.

He braced his large body against hers, deliberately trying to intimidate the hell out of her, ducked his chin so he could lock eyes with her, and hissed, “ _Whor-ing_.”

She spit in his face and Kylo saw red. That was never a good thing, because usually when it happened, he did the first thing that popped into his head. It usually involved smashing and breaking, and right now, all he wanted to do was to break _her_.

He leaned into her sweater and rubbed his face on it, wiping her spit off by dragging his cheek roughly across the fabric over her chest. There was no way he was letting one of those hands of hers loose.

_If she slaps me again…_

He leaned in and kissed her. Hard.

She sucked in a lungful of air and bit him. _She fucking bit me_.

He secured her hands with one of his so he could grip her jaw. “Don’t do that again, Rey.” His voice was lethally soft.

Her eyes were huge and she was panting in deep, shaking breaths. He pushed his tongue out onto his lip, licking the drop of blood she’d drawn.

Her eyes followed the movement, then flew back to his.

“This righteous indignation of yours is very well done. _Brava_ ,” he said in a voice dripping venom, flinging her face away from his.

“Fuck _you!_ ” she bellowed at him. “I’m _not_ the whore in this scenario!”

The air was crackling with tension like static electricity.

He walked her back to his desk, forcing his hips into hers. “Wasn’t that what you were doing? _Whoring yourself_?”

He took hold of her jaw with one hand again and turned her face to the side. He leaned into her neck and sucked on it. He could feel her pulse racing and lightly scraped the spot with his teeth.

“No!” Rey was so confused. His mouth on her felt so good. But … she was _so_ _angry_ at him

She kneed him as hard as she could and it was a good thing he was so tall and had moved in the nick of time, or she would have flattened him. As it was, she’d caught him hard in the thigh and his eyes lit up like hellfire.

He looked like he wanted to kill her. _Or something_. Adrenaline poured through her veins like gasoline.

He tightened his grip on her hands behind her back and moved the other from her jaw down to her chest, pressing just over her heart.

His eyes held hers like a snake-charmer's.

“No? You weren’t trying to drive me crazy?” _How could he interrogate her so calmly?_

 _He_ was the one driving _her_ crazy.

“Well, I was, but…” Rey blinked up at him in frustration.

“And then you left?”

“Only because you were gone!” she cried, exasperated.

“Couldn’t have waited around for an hour?”

“Where were you?”

 _Killing some bad guys_ , Kylo thought grimly. _Convincing my mobster boss it would be a good idea to use you as bait..._

There was no fucking way he was telling her that. So, he deflected.

“I had some things to take care of,” he murmured, shielding his eyes by looking at her mouth.

In apparent fascination, he moved his thumb over her jaw, stroking it gently, then caressed her bottom lip. He was watching her carefully, assessing whether she might try to bite him again. He pushed his thumb into her mouth, moistening the tip then pulling it out and spreading the moisture over her lip in a slow deliberate stroke.

And Rey felt it. That tug of dark, hot lust. It took her breath away. It took away everything except for her desire to taste him again.

“So, you _were_ trying to drive me crazy?” he clarified quietly, circling back to his earlier question.

Rey was mesmerized. She was totally into whatever he was doing. He’d just effortlessly peeled away all the layers of her emotions back until he’d gotten right to the only ones that mattered, deep at the core of her. _How did he do that?_

She was about to argue with him again when he pushed his thumb back into her mouth. This time she sucked on it. He let out the faintest little hmmm of pleasure and pushed her lip down then his thumb back in again. She obediently sucked on it again, knowing that was what he wanted, then took it very gently between her teeth. She flicked the tip with her tongue and Kylo swallowed visibly. His cheek was bright red from where she’d slapped him.

If she was into whatever this was, then so was he.

He moved his hand back to her throat, a gentle squeeze – a threat? – and leaned in to kiss her again. His mouth was hot and his full lips were unbelievably soft on hers. He tasted amazing. Rey wanted more and leaned into him.

He kissed her again, ruthlessly _taking_ , sweeping his tongue into her mouth as if he owned it, owned her.

His breath became hers. His tongue swept into her mouth again, suggestively, and she felt dizzy. Like a goddamn romance novel heroine. She went boneless in his arms, glad she was leaned against the desk and braced by him.

Kylo squeezed her throat and stated, “I think we have a communication problem, Rey. So, I’m going to communicate some things to you. Right now.” This was the same courteous tone he’d used on her _that_ night. It was deceptively pleasant. Unwavering in its authority.

He leaned in for a kiss that sent shivers down her spine. His arms tightened around her and he pushed his hips into hers, provocatively.

She tried to interrupt him, and he kissed her again until she was moaning.

“Don’t ever leave me like that again,” he pulled back abruptly, “It just about killed me.”

“You were the one who –" Rey tried to get a word in before he frowned and kissed her again. This time he ground his hips into hers a bit more explicitly.

“Sometimes,” Kylo was stealing away all her totally justified and rational arguments she’d been fuming over for the past week, “you need to shut the fuck up and let it go.”

His eyes moved possessively over her body.

The hand holding hers behind her back loosened and matched the other holding her jaw as Kylo deepened their kiss.

She rested her hands on his arms for balance. He moved so swiftly, it swept her breath away, lifting her to sit on the desk.

“Arms up,” he commanded. She obeyed, lifting her arms over her head immediately.

He pulled her sweater up and off, flinging it to the side of the room. He swallowed at the sight of her lacy pink bra, but instead of removing it, he pushed her back on the desk so he could unbutton her jeans.

She kicked off her shoes as he did, then lifted her butt off the desk so he could pull off her jeans and panties at the same time.

“Ben, I –" she started, sitting up.

“Shut the fuck up.” He unbuttoned his jeans and dragged them down far enough to expose his rigid erection. “I’m trying to explain something to you.”

Rey felt a surge of desire pool between her legs. He was thick and long and fully engorged. She wanted him. In her. Right now.

She licked her lips and Kylo roughly grabbed her around the waist, spinning her around so she was lying sprawled across his desk. Her feet couldn’t reach the ground at this angle.

“You’re still angry. Does that make you hate yourself? Wanting me right now?”

He leaned into her and she could feel his hardness pressing into the back of her thigh.

“You know, I can take whatever I want?” He ground his hips into hers. “And I know you want me to,” he muttered.

She moaned. She did want him to, she just couldn’t bring herself to admit it. She was still fucking pissed at him.

“Should I just…take what I want, Rey?” he asked. His body was radiating heat like a furnace behind her.

“Yes.”

He slid a finger between her legs, murmuring in approval when he found her wet.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw him wrap his hand around his cock and position himself against her.

He saw her watching and flashed her a wolfish grin before he wrapped her hair around his other hand and jerked her head down. Her hands gripped the edges of the desk for balance.

And then she felt him nudging between her legs and she groaned. Loudly.

He pushed in a bit and growled, “I said shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear another sound. I’ve had enough out of you for today.”

He pulled out and slowly slid partway back in. She wiggled trying to get more, but his grip on her hair tightened in warning.

And then, she felt him slide back out and roughly slam into her. She saw stars.

He did it again and her world tilted on its axis.

The third time forced a loud whimper of pleasure from her throat. _Fuck, he feels good._

“Shut. _Up_.” He sounded demented. “You need to pay attention to what I’m trying to communicate.”

He pulled her hair and roughly thrust into her again, ripping another cry of bliss from her. That sound earned her a swat on the butt, followed by another pump of his hips.

Then he quickened the pace and wrapped his huge hands around her exposed derriere, pushing and kneading even as he viciously rammed into her.

She wanted more.

“More.” She moaned.

He spanked her again and fucked her harder.

She was gripping the edge of the desk with everything she had, and all she could feel was his hot length slamming into her over and over. Rey did everything she could to get back at him, deliberately squeezing her pussy muscles around him as she angled her hips up to meet his.

A raw groan of pure animal lust vibrated from his chest. He pulled her hair again began another series of punishing thrusts. She would have bruises on her thighs. She didn’t care.

“Deeper,” she demanded.

She clamped down on him again and felt a white-hot light burn behind her eyes when she heard him growl at her.

He flipped her around so quickly, she would have fallen off the desk if he hadn’t been gripping her so hard.

He pulled her to the edge, pushed her legs open and stabbed into her in one long stroke. He hung his head into the crook of her neck, looking down.

“Look at us. Communicating,” he breathed, watching where their bodies met.

Rey looked down to see it, too. The sight of his huge cock pushing into her was beyond erotic. Rey felt an orgasm coming…

“Deeper,” she panted. She clawed at his rock-hard shoulders through his shirt.

He pulled her hips onto him and groaned. She could feel him hitting as deep as he could go.

“Deep enough?” he rasped into the side of her neck. Rey could feel herself…becoming part of him, somehow. Blending into him.

“No,” she said wildly. “Deeper.” He picked her up and turned so he was seated on the desk, her legs wrapped around him.

“Now?” His hands tightened on her hips painfully and he fucked her so hard and deep she screamed.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. His hands gripped her like bands of steel as he leaned back and worked her hips over him with animal savagery. She could see the tendons of his neck straining, sweat beading on his flushed face, full lips parted.

She licked a bead of sweat from the side of his neck and pushed her hands under his shirt, clawing at his chest like a wild thing.

She didn’t know if she intended to draw blood, but at his ragged gasp, she did it again. This was beyond sex. This was beyond fucking. They were going to tear each other apart.

“More,” she demanded and leaned forward to bite the thickly padded muscle of his shoulder. The sound that tore from his throat was inhuman. She felt a tidal wave of pleasure wash through her.

He glared at her, lips snarling, teeth bared.

_Yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes._

“Don’t. Stop.” Her body was taking over, going into overdrive, pulling and clutching at him, trying to hold him in, keep him there inside her forever, fuck _yes-yes-yes-yes_.

His eyes fixed on hers, glowing with unearthly hunger, sweat beading on his forehead at the exertion of what he was doing.

Like ocean waves pounding onto rocks, she felt the inevitability of wild, straining pleasure coalesce where his body rubbed against her clit and deep inside her where he stretched and filled her with his heat.

“Come in me, Ben, come inside me,” she chanted over and over into the side of his neck riding out the waves of passionate release.

“ _Fuck_!” He shouted, sounding like a dying man. He buried his face into the side of her neck, and she felt his entire body quake and a hot gush as he came with a long, ragged groan.

 

It seemed to last forever, that moment of surprise, of tension released.

They were covered in sweat, her head bowed on his chest, legs quaking.

“What – what just happened?” she whispered.

Their gasping breaths were the only sounds in the room. And then.

“I don’t know, Rey,” he replied quietly, watching her from under a very serious brow. “I don’t know.”

But, Kylo knew exactly what had just happened. He just couldn’t say it. Not right now.


	17. Debussy Clair de Lune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has an epiphany in the wake of his recent conversation with Rey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear, wonderful readers! 
> 
> If you are still with this story, then thank you, thank you, thank you for the wonderful comments, kudos, and bookmarks. This has been a blast to write, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy the next half of the story.
> 
> Please feel free to comment - it literally feeds my soul! 
> 
> Much love,  
> Amy B.

When they eventually had to disentangle themselves, Rey couldn’t stand up on her own. Her legs were too shaky and she had what she was sure would be some spectacular bruises in some _very_ uncomfortable places.

Kylo fetched her clothes while she leaned against the desk, and then everything hit her at once.

She’d just fucked her boss. On his first day at work. The boss she’d been absolutely furious with all week.

She’d slapped him. Twice. Spit on him. Tried to take out a very important piece of his anatomy with her knee…

He’d called her a _whore_. He thought she’d been trying to get the _Hammer_ …

 _Why?_ Why would he think that when he was the one - with what was likely an army of lawyers - trying to get it from _her?_

He gently helped her put her clothes on, and she flashed back to the emotional roller coaster ride she’d been on all week.

 

**Last week…**

Rey, carrying an armload of groceries towards her new apartment, heard a sound behind her and turned. It was only two men having a conversation half a block away, one of them holding the other one up and dragging him away. _Was that guy drunk?_

She turned back in slight embarrassment, hoping they hadn’t noticed her witnessing their scene…someone drunk at eleven in the morning on a Saturday was not an entirely unusual thing to see on the streets of New York City, although a tad uncommon in her new, very upscale neighborhood.

Rey headed towards the elevator, nodding at the doorman of the building as she went through. She loved that her new place had security and doormen and best of all a large gun safe bolted to the studs of her new walk-in closet. While it could probably still be broken into by a determined thief, Rey felt much better about keeping the _Hammer_ locked inside.

Phasma had been a marvelous roommate who tended to keep to herself and was a self-professed insomniac. Rey enjoyed her dry humor and the fact that Phasma only appeared when she was needed.

The first night after she had moved in, Rey had been genuinely distraught over Ben’s duplicity. Phasma had been wonderful to talk to because she’d mostly listened and murmured appropriate interjections like “what an asshole” and “you’re totally valid for feeling that way, darling” and “yes, he’s a total piece of shit.”

After the first few days with no calls or communication from Ben, Rey’s anger had taken on a life of its own.

“I mean, who does that? Only a total bastard would do what he did!” Rey was sprawled on one of the large sofas in their living room, trimming her nails with more vigor than was probably necessary.

“You’re right. He’s a bad person. You should be glad to have caught him out when you did,” Phasma said, sipping her Earl Grey and flipping through a copy of Vogue.

“I _am_ glad,” Rey said vehemently. She was so angry at him. And herself for getting swept away by a pair of pretty eyes that could smolder right through her like a hot brick through a snowbank…

“I did tell you he was possessive and domineering when we first met,” Phasma continued. “Although I didn’t realize he would be such a prick to you. I’m so sorry.”

Rey gulped down her immediate inclination to fall apart into a wreck of tears and disappointment. No, anger would serve her better than tears…if she ever saw that bastard again…she would definitely give him a piece of her mind…

…and now. Now they had just done what they had done…

Kylo’s cheek was still glowing red from where she had slapped him. She tentatively reached out to touch it.

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…” Rey stopped. Her own cheeks turned red as she realized she’d probably also given him a few scratches and a hard bite to the shoulder…

“I’m just … confused, Ben. After … last week. I can’t believe you did what you did after we –“

“What?” He looked confused. He took a breath and said cautiously, “What did I do? Tell me.”

“Don’t pretend, Ben! I know why – I know!” Her voice broke. Rey felt her eyes fill with angry tears and she hated it. Her chest was starting to shudder with emotion.

 

“There’s nothing you can say to me, Ben. I heard the message at the hotel. I know you called your lawyers after…after…”

And then everything clicked into place. He was such a fucking idiot.

She’d listened to the message from his lawyer’s office at the hotel. She’d assumed… _oh, damn_.

And then she was crying, sobbing her heart out onto his chest. _Aw, fuck._

“Will you let me explain?” he asked softly. “Please?”

He carefully lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

“Rey. Sweetheart. I called them – to tell them to drop the case,” Kylo said gently, wrapping her into a hug.

She sobbed harder. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

“I called them to say I _wasn’t_ going to pursue the case…”

It took her a good ten minutes to settle down and Kylo finally had the full picture of what had happened last week. She’d woken up alone after a night of passionate sex. She hadn’t known where he’d gone or why. She saw the message light on the phone and thought it might have been him…she heard the lawyer’s office mention his calls about the _Hammer_. And she’d assumed the worst. Of course she was upset with him.

And then, when he hadn’t tried to reach her all week, she’d gotten well and truly pissed off. He didn’t blame her a bit. He felt like the world’s biggest asshole. Which was normally a feeling that wouldn’t have bothered him in the least. But with _Rey_. It bothered him quite a bit.

“Oh, Rey. I’m … sorry I said what I said,” Kylo said solemnly, thinking uneasily that this new resurgence of a conscience was damned unpleasant.

He _never_ apologized, unless it was something along the lines of “ _Sorry, time for you to die”_ right before he killed someone…

And he’d come back and she’d been gone. The Strad gone. No note or word. Phasma hadn’t revealed anything useful. He’d just _assumed_. And then he’d spent a miserable, bitter week alternating between obsessing over her safety and resenting her. Planning vengeance… and then today, when she’d been shooting daggers at him with her eyes, obviously infuriated with him… he’d called her a whore and then … he gulped uncomfortably.

He gave her a gentle squeeze as her sobbing finally turned into stuttering breaths. His hand rested on the back of her head, caressing her soft hair.

At that moment, the only thought he had was he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. Ever. If he could stay here in this office, holding her forever, he would. But that was not an option; they needed to get back to the real world.

After a few more minutes, Kylo asked a question he was pretty sure would distract her, “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Rey blinked up at him through wet lashes and a tear-streaked face. “Oh! Shit! I was supposed to meet some friends at the bar for beers after work today…”

Kylo glanced at his watch. It had only been about forty-five minutes since everyone had left. Less than an hour and his world was rocking on its axis.

“Well, if you want, we can try to meet them there? If you think you’ll be up for it?” There was no fucking way he was leaving her alone tonight.

Rey smiled tremulously at him. “You want to hang out with my friends? Oh, this will be interesting.”

His eyes regarded her softly, “You know I actually do know how to behave in public, right?”

“Okay. Let me text Finn and let them know we’ll be there in a few. How do I look?”

She looked like she’d just been thoroughly fucked. Her hair was a mess and her neck had some very obvious marks on it. Not to mention that post-orgasm glow…and the red eyes and tear stains from their conversation after...

“You look perfect.” He smiled at her. “Let’s go.”

 

After a quick stop at the ladies’ room to fix her makeup and clean herself up a bit, Rey texted Phasma to make sure the _Hammer_ had been locked in the secure storage room at Lincoln Center for the night. Phasma confirmed she’d had the violin secured and mentioned that Rose had invited her to hang out at the bar. Rey was delighted and told Kylo as they walked arm in arm through the wintry evening.

Kylo was less than thrilled that Phas would be there – she would pick up on every undercurrent between Kylo and Rey like a radar scan – but he kept his facial expression pleasantly neutral, pulling Rey into his side as they strolled the two blocks to the bar.

The bar was situated on a side street, just down from Lincoln Center and was dimly lit, yet warm. Rey quickly located her friends towards the back, seated on an array of beat-up leather sofas. A large coffee table in the center of the grouping held several pitchers of beer and a few half-eaten pizzas from the bar’s famous wood-fired oven. A few dartboards hung nearby.

The trio was in animated discussion, and as Rey and Kylo approached, everyone glanced up in welcome. Kylo immediately recognized Finn and Rose from the orchestra. They smiled openly and enthusiastically offered freshly poured beers to the newcomers. They didn’t appear to notice anything amiss, Kylo was relieved to see.

Kylo met eyes with Phasma and watched her lips curl into a knowing grin as he helped Rey with her jacket. Removing his own and hanging both on a nearby coat stand, Kylo gave Phasma a warning look, even as he said, “Hey, Phas. Good to see you.”

She _hmmmd_ and said, “Good to see you, too, Ren.” Her eyes flickered over Rey for a millisecond before she continued, “Hi Rey! I hope it’s all right I crashed your get-together? These two invited me, and I just couldn’t resist.”

Rey smiled sunnily at her and said, “Oh! I love it that you’re here! The more the merrier.” Rey helped herself to a slice of pizza, folded it in half, and proceeded to scarf it down in four bites.

“You want some?” she offered to Kylo, a half-chewed bite still in her mouth. He wanted to lean over and lick the sauce from the corner of her lips but instead reached for his own slice.

Kylo realized his presence might have a dampening effect on the group dynamic, considering he was technically their boss, so he made an effort to direct the conversation away from work.

His eyes traveled over to the dartboards and asked if they ever played.

Finn laughed genially and said, “Yes! Rey never plays – but she usually keeps score for me and Rose. Why? You want to go a round?” His handsome face was eager for fresh competition.

“Rose is _really_ good – you four should play teams!” Rey said, clapping her hands together.

Kylo met Phasma’s eyes and he grinned evilly. “What do you say, Phas? You any good with darts?”

“Girls against boys,” Phasma said without hesitation, undaunted at the competitive gleam in Kylo’s eyes.

Finn whooped in excitement. “All riiiight!”

Rose grinned and offered to get the darts from the bartender. She was apparently excited for some fresh competition, too.

 

It quickly became apparent that Kylo and Phasma had superior skills at darts. They were both uncannily good. However, the game was close and the teams were evenly matched.

“I’m glad we didn’t team up _against_ those two,” Rose laughed good-naturedly, watching Kylo effortlessly land a dart in the triple-20. “Finn and I would have gotten slaughtered.”

Rey laughed and marked down the score.

Phasma and Kylo both had the advantage of height, their longer arms getting them just a bit closer to the board than Finn or Rose could from behind the throw line.

Rey couldn’t take her eyes off Kylo. There was something so…majestic about the way he threw, not even bothering to line up the shot. It was as if his whole huge, magnificent body could corral his will into the dart and direct it without fail to the target.

He stepped back and Phasma stepped up to shoot. Phasma was an incredible player, too. She had called every shot she’d made with confidence. She hadn’t missed once. Rey was amazed.

Finn and Rose each took a turn, and both of them were shooting very well indeed. Each of their shots tied the game.

“Sudden death!” Rey shouted. “Next bull’s eye wins!” Kylo grinned, knowing it was his turn next. Phasma and Rose groaned loudly.

Kylo stepped up, waggling the dart between his fingers, and nodded at Finn. He held back from the shot for just a moment, extending the suspense for dramatic flair. Then he extended his arm, turned to wink at Rey and threw it without even looking at the board.

When it thwacked into dead center, everyone in the group laughed or groaned loudly in admiration, except Phasma who rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Show off.”

Finn was practically hopping up and down with excitement, exclaiming, “Did you see that? Did you see that?!”

They all settled back onto the sofas before Rose yawned widely. Kylo had pulled out his phone to send a text, while Finn exclaimed over the excellent entertainment that evening. But, it was getting late and they all had work tomorrow. 

They pulled out cash and figured out their share of the bill – which was always split evenly, every time, without exception – and stood, gathering coats, purses, and instrument cases.

Finn and Rose headed out first, followed by Phasma, Kylo and Rey. They were walking out the doors when Phasma, checking her own phone, glanced to Rey and said, “Oh! Rey, darling, I hope you don’t mind…I was planning on spending the night at a friend’s tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Rey didn’t miss the predatory flicker in Kylo’s eyes and murmured, “Oh, um. Not at all…Just, yeah, see you tomorrow. G’night.”

Suddenly it was just her and Kylo, standing there on the sidewalk, looking at each other. He was staring at her like a hungry wolf licking his chops.

“Looks like we’re going to your place, then.” Kylo took her arm and hustled her down the street, apparently in deep thought.

 

 _I love her_.

In the sweaty, achy aftermath of the afternoon's torrid sexual encounter, the thought had cleaved through his mind like a machete.

She had asked what had just happened…because she had felt something – it – too.

She had still been on top of him, wide-eyed, shaking. He had still been in her, leaning back against the desk, arms straining to hold her up. He had told her he didn't know. 

But that had been a lie. He knew full well.

His brain almost couldn’t process the enormity of what he now knew. He replayed their moments back like a camera reel on fast-forward…

_The shock of recognition on her face when he’d confronted Luke after her rehearsal –_

_The way she’d laughed and teased him that first night, her eyes sparkling, smile flashing –_

_The look on her face when she’d realized he had written to her –_

_The feel of her in his arms. The sound of her passion –_

_Her face, her music, her light –_

He loved her.

It had been there all along. The whole time. He knew it without a doubt, without question.

And he was fucking petrified.

If she asked him to, he would willingly claw his battered, shriveled heart out of his chest with his bare hands – right now – and offer the pathetic, broken thing to her on a platter. He would do anything, _anything_ for her. Because he loved her.

He fucking _loved_ her, and she could never know.

Because if she ever found out the truth about him…she would never forgive him. And that would kill him as surely as a bullet to the chest.

 

 

Rey felt a sizzle of anticipation as he wrapped an arm around her in the growing cold, noticing how he matched his lanky stride to hers. The faint sexual tension that had hung between the two of them all night had blossomed like a mushroom cloud at his words. _Looks like we're going to your place, then._

Rey had a vague feeling that continuing this – whatever it was – with Kylo was going to lead to heartbreak somehow. If she had been devastated over a miscommunication and a mere week apart, what would happen if things didn’t work out? She wasn’t usually so pessimistic, but her heart was on the line. She was afraid to have it get smashed to pieces.

And then Kylo leaned his head into her neck and whispered the filthiest words she’d ever heard and all thoughts evaporated from her head, except one: _Get home now_.

 

They had only gone a block when Kylo pulled her into his side and murmured into her neck, “You and I need a shower…”

He felt her tremble. They strolled another half a block.

“You’ve probably still got my cum dripping out of that pussy…” He clicked his tongue in mock admonition.

Rey felt her stomach swoop with want. Her heartbeat skittered like water on a hot frying pan.

They walked another half a block.

“After we get back to your place…I’m going to get you in the shower. And then I'm going to eat your pussy. _All. Night. Long_.”

Rey couldn’t breathe.

By the time they got to Rey’s building, she was shaking with need.

He pulled her through the doors, casually nodding to the doorman, then whispered, “And after that…”

They got in the elevator. Two of Rey’s neighbors got in with them…

Kylo stood her in front of him, with her facing away from him, blocking their view. He took her hand and rubbed it over the bulge in his jeans.

One of her neighbors got off on the next floor.

Kylo leaned down and whispered, “…after that…when I’m _deep_ in you…” He deliberately emphasized the word _deep_.

Rey shivered.

The elevator stopped at the next floor. “…I’m going to use my mouth…”

Rey’s other neighbor nodded congenially and said good evening…and as the elevator doors slid shut…Kylo said evenly, “to show you how good you taste…”

His eyes prowled over her face and he smacked his lips.

Rey sincerely hoped she wouldn’t faint before they got to her apartment.


	18. Liszt – Liebestraum (Love Dream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo follows through on a promise made…and receives some unpleasant news.

Kylo knew when he texted Phasma at the bar earlier that evening he had a fifty-fifty chance at one of two outcomes: She would either laugh in his face and tell him to get bent, or she would actually do what he’d asked and make herself scarce for the evening.

Thankfully, she’d chosen the second option, leaving him and Rey alone together.

By the time they got to the door of her apartment, Kylo was close to taking her right there in the hallway. By the look on Rey’s face, she probably would have let him do it on the elevator in front of her neighbors.

Rey's hands were shaking as she fumbled with her keys. He probably wasn’t helping as he stood hovering behind her while she tried to unlock the door. He had buried his face in her hair at her neck, and his hands were under her sweater toying with her nipples through her bra.

“You are an eager little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered into her neck, as she finally got the key in and the door open.

He pushed her through the doorway, stripping her coat off as her momentum carried her forward. Kicking the door shut, he advanced towards her. “Get those fucking clothes off. Immediately.”

He shucked out of his coat, tossing it to the floor. He stripped off his shirt and undershirt in one motion, flexing his pecs as he dropped them to the floor. Her eyes were crawling over him like she was starving and he was a feast. _Like what you see, Rey?_

She pulled her sweater off and unhooked her bra throwing them aside. 

He kicked off his shoes, yanked off his socks, and then leaped on her, pushing her down to the nearest surface, which happened to be the sofa.

He didn’t speak, he _growled_.

“Change of plans,” he rasped, licking her collarbone, then moving his tongue in a red-hot line down to her breast.

He sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue. Rey squealed, pushing her hips into him and arching her back.

“I’m going to eat you out. Then shower.”

She gasped, then nodded. “Okay.”

He unbuttoned her jeans and stripped them off, pulling off her shoes and socks when he got to her feet. He flung a shoe towards the wall and something smashed. Neither one of them could have cared less.

When she was finally naked, he grabbed a foot and held it up to plant a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her ankle.

The room was dark – they hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights – and all he could see was the vague outline of her body from the light through the windows. She was reclining on the sofa, legs open, eyes boring into his. Her arms were bracing herself on the sofa so she could lean towards him. He could smell her arousal and he wanted to taste it.

He planted a palm onto the center of her chest and pushed her down. He heard her exhale in surprise, but she stayed put.

“I want you to tell me the truth, Rey,” he murmured as he continued to place burning, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her calf. “Did you touch yourself last week? Did you think about me?”

“Yes.” Her answer was breathless.

_I fucking knew it…_

“Show me what you did.”

He had worked his way up to her inner thigh, just above the knee. He sucked a hickey into the soft flesh there, before settling her calf on his shoulder and bracing his arms on either side of her hips. _Show me, let me see._

Rey moved a hand between her legs. His eyes followed the movement hungrily. When she touched herself, lightly stroking her glistening pink flesh, he moaned and kissed her leg again before turning back to watch.

He was crouching over her like a demented beast. 

The sight of her fingers playing with her clit was too much.

“That is so fucking sexy,” he muttered, right before he leaned forward and stroked her with his tongue, curling it into her, then swiping it up in one long lick to tease her fingers away from her clit.

_Mine. Let me…_

She shrieked in wordless approval when he did that, and she moved her hand to grip him by the hair. He pushed her other leg to the side, so it was propped over the edge of the sofa. And then he dove back in.

 

Rey was unbelievably turned on. She felt a surge of wetness as he worked his mouth over her.

“God, you are one hot mess, aren’t you, Rey?” he said, stroking his tongue over her sensitized flesh. One of his hands was braced into the sofa, holding her leg up to his shoulder while the other one swept up to tweak the rosy tip of her breast.

She hummed in agreement, clutching his silky hair harder. His warm breath moved to her inner thigh, and he nipped the tender spot with his teeth.

He snagged her free hand and placed it over her other breast. “Take care of that for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Rey’s pulse was thumping out of control. _Ohmigod, does he want me to…?_

He stopped for just a second to ensure she was playing with her unattended nipple before going back down on her, propping her legs further apart.

The shadow of his huge, muscled shoulders wedging her legs apart was beyond erotic. She groaned at the sight.

Her own hand continued to pinch at one nipple while he squeezed and massaged the other with his free hand.

He made the sexiest noises as he moved his lips and tongue on her. Little "mphfs" and "ahhms" that made her even wetter...His eyes would occasionally glance back up to hers as if he couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

The faint rasp of his five o’clock shadow between her legs heightened the contrast of her vulnerable softness to his avaricious masculinity.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he murmured before moving his hand from her breast to plunge two long fingers into her slick heat. Rey felt a pleasurable clench in her belly at his words. She arched her hips into his face.

"You like that, don't you?"

He continued to rhythmically push his fingers into her, sucking her clit in a steady tempo, watching her with burning eyes.

Her breath was coming out in soft “ahs” in time to his movements.

 

The sounds she was making were pushing him to the limits of control, but he wasn’t about to stop what he was doing. Instead, he groaned loudly into her hot, soft wetness, once, then again...and that seemed to hurl her over the edge.

Kylo felt the telltale clenching of her pussy around his fingers and added a third as she was coming, moaning into her to extend her orgasm into an impossibly long moment. _Fuck, she's_ sooo _tight..._

Rey’s hips were banging into his face, her head thrown back in a blissful frenzy, and she screamed his name.

His mouth and chin were coated in her slick wetness. As she was coming down, he roughly undid his jeans, yanking them down and off. He crawled back onto the sofa until he was braced over her.

He lined himself up, leaned forward to kiss her neck, and finally pushed his aching erection into her. He could feel her inner walls still fluttering and spasming from her release just moments ago. 

He watched her face, mesmerized. _Yes. More._

She was staring at him in shock, even as she arched her hips to receive him. She felt like wet silk on his cock.  _Oh, yes…_

He leaned in and kissed her rapaciously, spearing his tongue into her mouth, knowing she could taste herself on his mouth and face.

He pushed himself in deeply and greedily stroked his tongue into her gasping mouth, rocking his hips into her.

“Now, come again for me, sweetheart.” 

She did.

 

After, they stayed on the sofa for a good long while, catching their breath. Kylo was watching her with an undefinable expression on his face before he cautiously sat up and asked her, “Can you make it to the shower?” 

Rey was a shaky, sweaty mess. She didn’t think her legs worked anymore. She just shook her head helplessly.

He leaned over and picked her up, asking, “Where is it?”

Rey nodded towards her room, wrapping an arm around his neck.

He carried her through the indicated door, then into the adjoining five-piece bath. The shower was big enough for two, he was relieved to see. He set her onto the edge of the tub, then turned to the shower to get the water going.

Once the water was hot, he took her hand and pulled her in with him.

 

Under the hot spray of water, he was still watching her with an unfathomable expression, his eyes flicking over her body.

She returned the gesture, noting in the bright bathroom lights that he had several long scratch marks on his chest and the rounded imprint of a bite mark clearly delineated on his shoulder, all souvenirs from their earlier encounter in his office.

“Um. I’m sorry I …” Rey nodded towards his chest and he glanced down.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled faintly at her. _I’ve had worse._ “You have some mementos of your own,” he said, indicating the various love bites on her neck and thighs.

He turned her around and crouched down to examine the backs of her thighs, lightly running a finger over the bruises that were forming there. Rey watched him over her shoulder, admiring the deep indentations of his back and shoulder muscles.

“Hmmmm.” He frowned. _Fuck. I hurt her._

“It’s nothing,” she repeated his words back to him.

He turned her back around and snagged her wrists into his hands, examining them and finding faint marks there as well, from when he’d pinned them behind her back earlier. He kissed the marks in apology.

His frown deepened. “I shouldn’t have…” He was still crouched in front of her. He looked up at her with…distress?

“Ben,” Rey cupped his chin in her hand, “It’s okay. I – I shouldn’t have hit you earlier. If you hadn’t stopped me, I might’ve really hurt you.”

_The only way you could ever hurt me is to leave me again_ , he thought. _And it is only a matter of time before you do._

She caught the look of sorrow on his face, misinterpreting it.

The water was streaming down on them.

She slid her hands into his wet hair and leaned forward and kissed his damp forehead. His arms wrapped around her and he pressed the side of his face into her belly. _This is so fucking hard._

He turned his face and kissed her hip, then the taut skin next to her navel. _I love you._ The thought crashed into his mind, but he couldn’t push it away.

He dipped his tongue into the indentation of her belly button before trailing a series of kisses across her abdomen to her other hip.

He slid his hands over her wet skin, standing up.

His eyes caught hers and he leaned in to kiss her, lips soft and gentle on hers. They stood there for several long minutes just kissing in the spray of hot water.

He loved her. And there was nothing he could do.

Eventually, Kylo gently pulled away and found the shower gel. He rubbed it between his hands and then worked the suds over her body, careful of the pressure on her bruised, tender areas.

When she was all soaped up, he shuffled them around so she was under the spray. Rey hummed in pleasure as he scrubbed shampoo into her scalp.

He rinsed her hair, careful to keep the soap away from her eyes. The look on his face was reverent, worshipful, even.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Rey,” he said in wonder. _I love you,_ he thought.

“I want you,” she said quietly, meeting his bewildered gaze with her own determined - if not slightly embarrassed - one. 

He gave her a half-grin and nodded down at himself growing hard for her again. He raised his eyebrows and said, “I think we are both in the same boat, here.”

She noticed and smiled mischievously, grabbing the shower gel. She proceeded to give him the same rubdown she’d received from him, hands sliding over his carved muscles and moving him back into the shower spray to rinse him off.

By the time he was done rinsing his hair, which he had to do himself since she couldn’t reach, her hands were roaming over him freely. All of him. 

“Take me to bed, Ben,” finally said, her voice tinged with impatience.

He turned off the water and reached for a towel.

She stood in front of him, dripping, while he rubbed her down.

_I love you, Rey._

He ran the towel over his own body, rubbing it vigorously over his hair before he picked her up again and carried her to bed.

 

 

He had only slept for a few hours when he awoke abruptly. _Check your phone._

Rey was out cold.

Kylo crept silently out of bed and went to the living room. Their clothes were strewn everywhere, but he easily located his coat, lying on the floor near the door.

He checked to make sure the front door was locked – it wasn’t – flipped the deadbolt into place, and then dug his cell phone out of the coat pocket.

There were two messages waiting for him.

The first one was, surprisingly, from Hux.

_Careful, Ren, that your personal interests not interfere with orders from Snoke._

Phasma must have gone to Hux tonight and said something. _Fucking hell._

The second message was much more alarming. It was from one of his Knights.

_Uralmash not gone yet. They know. Beyn headed to NYC._

A chill ran through him at the implication.

_Fuck._


	19. Beethoven Piano Concerto No 5 in E-flat Major, Adagio Un Poco Mosso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gets some unwelcome news and life becomes more complicated.

Kylo looked at his phone for a long minute before heading back to Rey in bed. He didn’t think he would be able to fall asleep again, but he did, pulling Rey into his arms and burying his face in her hair.

When he woke up, Rey was still asleep. It was only five-thirty. He could smell coffee and hear someone moving around in the apartment. _Phasma. She’d be back early since I sent her off without any warning last night._

He walked out of Rey’s room naked – all of his clothes had been flung onto the living room floor – and saw Phasma sitting at the kitchen island, drinking tea and reading a newspaper. She had bagels and schmear laid out on the counter in front of her.

Kylo headed towards his jeans next to the sofa and pulled them on. He heard Phas say, “Well, well, well…looks like you had an _interesting_ night…” He wasn’t sure if it was her accent or if she just always sounded intentionally smug.

He ran a hand through his hair and kept his mouth shut. Phas was watching him like a cat watching a mouse.

He zipped up his jeans and went into the kitchen, reaching to open a nearby cupboard to find a mug.

Phasma stopped him saying, “Next cupboard over, Ren. That’s the gun cupboard.”

“Did you just say _gun_ cupboard?” He eyed her over his shoulder, incredulous. “Does Rey know about that?”

“Of course she knows. She thinks I’m an incredibly paranoid resident of one of the most dangerous cities in the world, and that I’m terrified of burglars…rapists…hitmen…mobsters…”

Kylo glanced towards Rey’s bedroom door and opened the “gun” cupboard. There, nestled between a box of crackers and some cereal, was a SIG Sauer 9mm and several boxes of hollow-point bullets.

“Well. Isn’t that fucking domestic?” he said sarcastically, before grabbing a mug from the next cupboard over and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the counter to take a sip, and Phasma eyed his bare chest.

“Looks like you had a _very_ interesting night,” she said, checking out the scratches on his chest and the still-visible bite mark on his shoulder. “You two destroyed the living room, by the way.”

Kylo looked towards the living room and saw what she meant. A framed poster of Casablanca hung crookedly on the wall, glass smashed everywhere over the table and floor below it. A lamp had fallen off one of the end tables, and the sofa had been pushed several feet out of place. Throw pillows and clothes were strewn all over the floor. Somehow several books from a nearby shelf had ended up on the floor, pages askew.

“I’ll get your poster fixed,” Kylo said unapologetically.

He noticed he had flung his shirt near where the glass from the poster had broken. “Lend me a t-shirt?” he asked Phasma. Anything of Rey’s would be way too small. He would have preferred his own shirt over borrowing one from Phasma, but after yesterday’s sweaty sex in his office and the probability that his shirt was now covered in glass shards…

Phasma set down her mug, eyeing the broad expanse of his chest with assessing gleam in her eye. She walked into her room and came back a minute later with a black _Pink Floyd_ t-shirt.

“ _Dark Side of Moon_ all right with you? I use it for sleeping, but I think it’s the only one that’s clean that will fit you.” She tossed it to him.

He pulled it over his head. It was snug, but it was clean. It would have to do. He nodded to her in thanks and helped himself to a bagel.

Kylo glanced at the door to Rey’s bedroom again before he caught Phasma’s eye.

“Beyn’s headed to New York,” he said in a low voice, all business.

“Hux told me.” Phasma set down her newspaper and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Snoke had the Knights working on taking out the rest of them,” he continued, referring to the Uralmash faction in Russia.

“From what we know, Beyn is the only one they haven’t managed to get to, yet,” Phasma said matching Kylo’s low voice, and taking a bite from her bagel.

“What about the rest of Uralmash in New York? Who’s left?” Kylo asked.

“Nobody.” Phasma spread some schmear on her bagel and took another bite.

“Are you positive about that?” Kylo pushed. They needed to be sure.

“Yes. They were already pretty decimated after the job you did three years ago. They didn’t have a strong foothold here in the States. From what we could gather, they had only sent a very small contingent to come after you and the _Hammer_. They didn’t have anyone else to send. We took care of most everyone they _did_ send the night of the concert. The rest of them we took out last week.”

Kylo grunted. _So, just Beyn, then._

“Beyn must have a death wish,” Kylo muttered.

“He has nothing left to lose,” Phasma reminded him. “And he wants revenge, now. Did you know one of those guys you killed last week was his brother?”

_Fuck. That means he’ll be dangerous and unpredictable. Fucking perfect._

“I’ll be hanging around a lot more, then, until this guy is dead,” Kylo said, keeping his voice casual.

“Oh, lovely. I can’t wait for the entire apartment to be completely demolished…”

“Tell me where your weapons are stashed,” Kylo deflected.

 

By the time Rey woke up, Phasma had pointed out the impressive array of guns and knives she’d hidden around the apartment, while they cleaned up the living room. Unless Rey was looking hard, she probably wouldn’t find most of them. Kylo felt better knowing there was a small arsenal at his disposal.

Rey came out of the bedroom looking thoroughly tousled and tried to take the broom and dustpan from Phasma when she saw her sweeping away the glass from the broken poster. Phasma just gave her a friendly leer and told her to go get a bagel to “keep up her strength.” Rey turned beet red and shifted her eyes to Kylo, who had a self-satisfied look on his face as he pushed the sofa back into place.

They all convened in the kitchen again and Rey, intent on keeping the subject of the conversation away from her and Kylo’s earlier _activities_ asked them both, “So. Where the hell did you two learn how to shoot darts like that?”

Kylo choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken and Phasma said smoothly, “Oh, didn’t Ren tell you?”

It took significant will for Kylo to keep a severe warning look from crossing his face as he said flippantly, “Oh, _no_. Phasma tells the story so much _better_.”

Phasma took the hint and regaled Rey with a hilarious story about how they learned to shoot darts at the school they attended in Russia. Rey’s eyes sparkled as she imagined younger versions of Kylo and Phasma learning to shoot darts together to surprise everyone and win the annual championship at the local pub… Phasma's story was complete bullshit of course, but Kylo laughed along with Rey.

Eventually, it was time for them all to head to work. Knowing Beyn was out there looking for him put an edge to his mood as they walked toward Lincoln Center.

Kylo felt distinctly grubby in his borrowed t-shirt and yesterday’s jeans. He needed a shave. He hoped he didn’t look too unprofessional on his second day of work…and at the same time, he really didn’t give a shit.

Thinking of what else was unprofessional, Kylo glanced at Rey. It was probably inappropriate in the extreme that he’d fucked her at work on his first day…and then spent the night doing even more inappropriate things to her…

His mind drifted to the things they’d done to each other last night after their shower. _Absolutely inappropriate…and completely, mind-numbingly wonderful…_

 

He was becoming beyond obsessed with her.

After a few sideways glances from several of the orchestra members, presumably because his attire was bordering on _too_ casual, Kylo realized he was going to have to figure out a more - stable? – acceptable? way of handling his life. Especially if he was planning on sticking to Rey like glue for the foreseeable future. He would definitely need – at a minimum – access to fresh clothes if he was planning on spending more time at Rey and Phasma’s place.

Now was the worst possible time to be distracted by a girl. He was in New York on Snoke’s orders, he had a complicated job to perform both behind the scenes and as chief Conductor, and he had a really pissed-off bad guy coming for him.

In addition to that, he found himself slipping too comfortably into a borderline friendship with Phasma, who would unquestionably kill him with her own two hands should he display anything other than a ruthless commitment to their assigned job.

Making matters worse was the fact that he was sure Phasma, as engaging and congenial as she had been over the past few days, would not hesitate to take Rey out of the equation if she felt it was necessary…and then there was Hux. Hux was a reptile who had absolutely no conscience whatsoever…Hux had already sent him a warning text, hinting he was aware of a possible problem with Kylo’s interest in Rey.

And Rey. And the fact that Kylo loved her. And all of this tangled web was pulling her unwittingly into a very dangerous situation. Kylo refused to think about his feelings on that, knowing it was completely his fault for getting her involved and even more atrocious that he was not going to – or able to – stop seeing her.

Things were getting way too complicated in his life: He _really_ needed to focus.

Today they were working on one of the feature pieces of the upcoming performance series, Prokofiev’s _Romeo and Juliet_. The complete ballet was nearly two hours long, but Kylo had selected about an hour of highlights and compiled them into a seamless piece.

_Why the fuck did I have to pick Romeo and Juliet?_ , he wondered. Star-crossed lovers was not a theme he wanted to dwell on right now. Especially a theme where the lovers both ended up dead.

As he conducted the orchestra through _Montagues and Capulets_ , and all he could think about was the sight of Rey’s eyes on his last night, deep in the throes of passion… _the way she’d licked a hot trail down his chest, kissing his abs softly, flicking out with that sweet, pink tongue…_

He snapped his baton onto the edge of the podium, signaling for everyone to stop. _Don't stop, he had whispered, begged. And she hadn't..._

In spite of the jeans, t-shirt, and evident beard, he still wielded complete authority. When he spoke every back in the room straightened, every eye focused on him. Her eyes had focused on him. He swallowed. 

“Let’s do the last twelve bars again, only this time I want more from the brass section. It should be more robust - a PAH! Pa-PAH! Not pa-pa-pa.” He emphasized his words with a semi-curled fist as if he could somehow project what he wanted with his hands.

“Violins, don’t get lost in the tempo,” he said casually, as an aside to Rey, and picked up the baton again, trying not to notice her hair… _remembering the feel of it tickling across his naked thighs before she took him in her mouth…the sight of her lips wrapped around him…the sensation of her tongue swirling around…_

“Play through till the end,” he instructed, clearing his throat as he swung his arms down dramatically.. _.the feel of her moaning on him, licking, stroking him with her warm, soft hands..._

He was going to have to increase his personal security and talk to Phasma again about not leaving Rey alone for even a minute…

 

 

It only took a week for Beyn to find him, which, in Ren’s opinion, was a week too long.

Kylo and Rey had been walking to work, hand-in-hand, when his phone went off.

“Oh, hang on, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her briefly on the mouth in apology, “It’s my dry cleaner's.”

Rey stood on the sidewalk next to him while he answered.

“Uhhh…hello?”

_“Beyn’s three blocks away and headed right towards you.”_ Mitaka’s voice was businesslike and to the point.

“Oh. Well, that’s frustrating but understandable.”

“I know you can’t talk. Figure something out or he will massacre everyone in arm’s reach trying to get to you.” Mitaka’s unspoken words rang through Kylo’s mind. _A massacre would certainly draw attention you don’t need right now._

“Ok. Well, thank you for letting me know.” _Fuck_.

Ren looked down at Rey and smiled.

“They lost a dress shirt…” he lied, shaking his head, “Hey, you know what sounds good?”

_Beyn is probably only two blocks away by now._

“Why don’t you head over to Lincoln without me, and I’m going to run in and get us both a coffee.” Kylo nodded casually to a nearby coffee shop. “You can get everyone warmed up for me, okay?”

Rey beamed at him. _Don’t hang around, sweetheart. You need to get the fuck out of here._

“Oooooh, yes! Get me a double-tall, iced mocha with whip cream!” she said enthusiastically. _I love you. Get out of here. Now._

He kissed her on the lips and grinned back at her for what he sincerely hoped would not be the last time. “It’s winter and you want an iced mocha?” he mocked, keeping his voice light and teasing. _Go now, Rey. Go._

“Don’t you judge my caffeine choices, Ben!” She shook her head at him and walked away, turning back to smile at him once more before disappearing into the crowd of commuters on the busy street.

He kept smiling until he was sure she was gone, safe in the crowd. And then the smile slid from his face and was replaced by something far deadlier...


	20. Prokofiev Romeo and Juliet, Montagues and Capulets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is late for work.

_“The physics of musical form are restricted by the laws of nature: Music as a perceptible thing resides in the tangible world, and therefore cannot exist without tangible means. In other words, a source, such as an instrument, will provide this means. However, if music is to exist beyond a moment – beyond that initial moment of creation - it must be placed into tangible form or it will be lost forever. It must be transcribed to be reinterpreted, relearned, and performed again. And that is why you must stick to the score: To preserve that initial moment forever.” – Maestro Luke Skywalker_

 

There is a fine line in the difference between a man who fights because he has nothing left to lose and a man who fights because he has everything to lose.

Ren had always fought the first way, before. It had given him an edge, he believed. A lack of concern that allowed him to take risks.

To win.

Ren had always fought like he had nothing to lose because that had always been his reality.

Before, _her_.

Fighting the second way was much more terrifying.

 

Rey arrived at Lincoln Center with ten minutes to spare and spent a few minutes chatting with Finn and Rose about the previous night at the bar. Another week had passed and, as per their usual routine, they all met at the same bar as they had the prior week, and again, as last week, they were joined by Phasma and Ben.

Rose had insisted on a rematch, so they teamed up at darts again, with Rey keeping score. This time the ladies had won the night, but only barely. Finn had missed a single shot, at which Ren had called him a traitor, and it put the ladies in the lead for the rest of the game. Rose and Finn were both deeply entertained as Phasma recalled the story of how she and Ren had become such masters at darts.

Everyone had gone home much earlier that night than they had the previous week. And, as he had been doing all week, Ben spent the night…

Rey’s cheeks turned faintly pink as she remembered how much she looked forward to nights in bed with Ben…he was a demanding, vigorous lover, and he never seemed to tire of her. Rey was glad he had taken it upon himself to spend so much time with her, and she was also glad Phasma did not seem to mind his constant presence in their apartment.

Part of Rey was mildly worried that Ben’s mood had taken on a bit of a melancholy edge, but she assured herself it was most likely due to the demanding schedule he had set for the upcoming performance series. He spent much of his free time working on a special composition – for her, he had mentioned _almost_ shyly – that he would perform near the end of the season.

“When it’s time for everyone to learn the piece, I want you to practice your concerto down the hall,” he had told her.

“Wait! What? Why? I don’t get to play it?” Rey was a bit put-out at his proclamation.

But he insisted, “No. I want you in the audience for the second half of the performance.”

“But I’m Concertmaster! Who will conduct if you are busy playing?” Rey persisted.

“Artoo can do it. I’ve already asked him. He’ll do a good job.” Ben gave her a knowing grin. “Plus, you will need to learn the Mendelsohn Concerto, so you’ll be busy.”

The plan for that performance was for Rey to perform a violin concerto for the first half of the concert and for Ren to debut his new composition after intermission.

“But, Ben, I want to –“ Rey tried to argue with him.

“Shhh. You can’t win this one, sweetheart. I’m the boss, remember?” Then he had kissed the breath out of her, and she had reluctantly complied.

 

Rey grudgingly turned her thoughts away from him and realized it was time to start practice. There must have been a line at the coffee shop, she assumed, so she stood at the podium and directed everyone to start where they had left off the previous day. As Concertmaster, it was her responsibility to take over in the conductor’s absence; Rey didn’t mind in the least.

The conductor’s score was laid out on the podium in front of her, Ben’s meticulous notes carefully inscribed throughout. Rey was impressed with his beautiful handwriting and she had no trouble discerning his intent with the music.

She was not surprised to see that Ben did not follow his uncle’s oft-repeated advice to “stick to the score” – in fact, he obviously intended to take quite a few liberties with tempo and dynamics.

 _Luke Skywalker would thoroughly disapprove_ , she thought to herself…

She wondered at the dichotomy of such a man who could show such range of emotion and temper but still maintain scrupulous control over things like his … handwriting.

_I wonder what his music sounds like…_

_Also, Ben is late for work…really late._

 

The second Rey disappeared into the crowd of commuters, Ren’s mindset fully became the merciless one of killer: Master of the Knights of Ren, deadly monster created by his Master Snoke, trained to hunt, trained to slaughter. And he was stalking prey.

If anyone had truly examined his face as he casually strolled to the place where he intended to meet Beyn, they would have seen the ice-cold eyes of a bloodless executioner.

Ren scanned faces with a half-smile – a disguise, a mask – on his features, but his eyes remained predatory. As he continued on his usual route, he moved his Ka-Bar into place at the inside of his sleeve. The knife had been a real bitch to hide from Rey, but it would have been much easier to explain than a gun, had she noticed he was armed.

 _It is much more difficult to get someone to follow you when you are trying to lure them somewhere,_ Ren thought. Ren had been taking the same route to work every day for the past week, so he was unsurprised that Beyn had figured out where he would be at this time of day. In fact, Ren had counted on it.

He wanted Beyn to think he had the element of surprise, but the truth was, Ren had already scouted several likely nearby locations on his route. Locations where he could finally wipe that scum off the face of the earth…

Ren was hoping to lead Beyn to a nearby rooftop – his first choice for several reasons, one being it was the most strategically advantageous for a surprise counterattack. Also, he figured Beyn would have a gun on him, and Ren preferred to disarm someone a bit farther away from a busy street in case the gun went off. Less ideal was a deserted alleyway, which still provided cover, but meant he would have less maneuverability.

When Beyn was twelve yards away from him, Ren stopped at a newsstand to glace at the headlines of a newspaper. _Good. He sees me. He’s coming this way._

Too close to get him to the rooftop, but oh well. That piece of shit was still going to die today.

The darkened alley would do, but it was not ideal if someone happened upon them. Especially after Ren killed the fucker. He would have to make this fast.

Ren faked a surprised reaction as if he’d just noticed Beyn and bolted for the alley.

Beyn came around the corner, gun drawn, but Ren was ready for him and gave a brutal kick, knocking the man’s drawn gun from his hand.

But Beyn had a backup plan, too, and was already hurling a throwing knife toward Ren’s face.

Ren ducked _into_ the throw, spinning at the last second, wrapping a huge fist around Beyn’s throwing hand and giving it a vicious twist. _Move into the knife, not away,_ he recalled from countless drills.

Beyn sidestepped and moved back to regroup. He obviously had some fighting skills. But he would be no match for Ren.

Ren’s Ka-Bar slid into his hand as if by magic and he squared up to Beyn.

“Beyn. Can’t say I’m happy to see you,” Ren said conversationally in Russian. His eyes were like obsidian, contrary to his friendly tone of voice.

Beyn smiled evilly at him and said, “Ah, Ren, killing you is going to be so satisfying.” He pulled out a deadly-looking bowie knife, similar in length and size to Ren’s Ka-Bar. “And killing your lady friend is going to be even better.”

_Bring it on, motherfucker._

“You just made your last mistake,” Ren said, flipping his blade into position smoothly, even as his heart thumped in panic at the thought of Rey in the hands of this…creature.

Ren had always fought like he had nothing to lose because that had always been his reality.

But not now.

Fighting because he had everything to lose was much more terrifying.

It had only taken minutes to disarm Beyn, and Ren decided it would be better not to show up to work with blood everywhere. He had Beyn wrapped in a chokehold and was grappling to get a grip on the man’s head so he could break his neck, when the man fumbled.

And Ren felt the slide of a push dagger punch through his side.

The momentary distraction it took for Beyn to stab him was the last thing Beyn would ever do. Ren snapped the man’s neck with a cruel, powerful twist.

And then Ren stumbled back into a wall.

_Fuck._

_That fucker got me. So fucking stupid. Not wanting her to see you covered in blood…like you couldn’t have changed your clothes after…_

He slid down the wall. His legs weren’t working.

_Rey. You’re everything._

For some reason, Kylo recalled that moment he’d had in Rey’s dressing room during the intermission of her concert. That night. That same helpless feeling flooded through him, only now it was so much stronger...

_I love you._

He pressed down on his wound. _Would Mitaka know to come to check on me after he’d called me with the warning?_

He felt the cold, sweaty shaking feeling of shock overtake him. He was losing blood.

Rey had always been the only one who ever had truly _seen_ him. Truly _heard_ him. He loved her desperately.

The world became fuzzy.

He could almost recall the feel of a warm little hand, placed on his cheek in care, almost as if it were leaving a scar…saying goodbye...

The last thought he had before he lost consciousness was from long ago...

...of a grubby little girl he’d pulled through a window...

...watching him and listening intently as he played a half-composed melody she would never hear.


	21. Wagner Götterdämmerung - Siegfried's death and Funeral march

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has a revelation about Snoke’s plans for the future. Rey tries to coerce Kylo into sharing his music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Wagner’s Götterdämmerung, or Twilight of the Gods, is a particular favorite of mine.

When Kylo awoke in the hospital, his first thought was of Rey. It was fortunate she was standing by his bedside, or he would have ripped the IV from his arm and ran out of the room to find her, backless hospital gown be damned.

“Oh,” she breathed, “Thank goodness you’re awake…”

“What happened?” Kylo’s voice was scratchy. He noticed the presence of several others in the room. Phasma, Mitaka, and a woman wearing a white jacket and stethoscope who was presumably his doctor. The tiny, ebony-skinned woman projected an air of competence and extreme no-nonsense. Kylo guessed by the few silver hairs glinting from her short-cropped curls and the ageless expression of motherly authority that she would be around his own mother’s age…

“Mr. Adams? How are you feeling?” The doctor approached him, taking a quick survey of the screens set up next to his bedside.

“Okay.” Kylo’s voice was creaky. “Thirsty.”

“You were injured, in a mugging, apparently. This gentleman found you in an alley and brought you here. Saved your life. Insisted on staying until he knew you would be all right,” the doctor told him, nodding towards Mitaka.

“A Good Samaritan…” Rey murmured, gently taking Kylo’s hand.

Kylo barely kept his face straight. _Mitaka is anything but a Good Samaritan…_ “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Tanaka. Jin Tanaka. I’m just glad I found you when I did…” Mitaka said in a decent imitation of playing the concerned stranger. His disguise was impeccable. _Thank God Rey didn’t recognize him…_

“How’d…you know my name?” If Kylo had been “mugged”… how were they playing this?

Phasma interjected, “Your wallet and ID were found near the scene. Cash, phone, and credit cards gone.”

Mitaka patted his jacket pocket and made the slightest of nods to Ren, indicating he had cleared the knives, gun, and swapped out Kylo’s ID. _Very thorough, Mitaka. Someone needs to give you a raise._

Phasma, catching the slight gesture, said quickly, “Thankfully, you had me listed as your In Case of Emergency contact. We got here as fast as we could.”

“Who was -?” Kylo croaked. He was abominably weak.

“They didn’t find anyone nearby. No witnesses,” Phasma reported. _They took care of Beyn’s body, then._ _Good._

The doctor stepped up and said shortly, “I think Mr. Adams needs some rest, now, everyone.” She turned to Kylo and said, “You are a very lucky man. Had that mugger gotten any closer, you would have had sustained more serious damage to your liver…as it is, you needed minor surgery to repair …” The doctor's voice faded out as Kylo momentarily drowsed then woke again. “…only sixteen stitches, but a deep puncture wound, nonetheless…” Rey was holding his hand and looking deathly pale. 

“Please, everyone. He needs to rest.” The doctor gestured to the door, indicating they needed to leave.

Kylo gripped Rey’s hand harder and said authoritatively, if weakly, “She stays.”

Rey looked defiantly at the doctor who appeared to hesitate as she glanced their firmly clasped hands. “We’re family,” Rey said with conviction. Kylo’s heart melted at her words. _Oh, Rey…_

“No talking. Do not disturb him in any way.” The doctor’s somber, dark eyes gave Rey an unspoken warning: “Or I’ll have you removed from this room.”

Rey nodded. Kylo smiled faintly, remembering how still and quiet she used to be when she watched him play piano…his eyes drifted closed again.

 

Rey heard echoes of the doctor's words and couldn't take her eyes off Ben.  _“Nicked your liver, hence the blood loss, transfusion, minor surgery…recovery time will be about a month…”_

Phasma gave Rey a curt nod and left the room, following Mr. Tanaka, the man who had saved Ben’s life…Rey felt her chest seize up. _What if Ben hadn’t been found in time?_

Ben, eyes closed but apparently still awake, whispered to her, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay…”

 

Nothing was going to be okay. The quantity and depth of lies Kylo had been telling were piling up too quickly. He was starting to make mistakes. Costly mistakes.

It occurred to Kylo right before he fell asleep that Rey hadn’t yet asked about the police report he’d claimed to file from the shooting over two weeks ago…he would have to come up with another lie before she figured out he never called in a report…

 

Sure enough, the next day, as Rey sat with him waiting for the doctor’s discharge instructions, Rey asked him if he had ever heard anything from the police about the shooting, wondering aloud why she hadn’t been contacted yet.

“I’m sure they’ll call if they find anything, sweetheart,” Kylo had reassured her. “Remember, they have my statement, and the evidence from the car, and under those circumstances there’s not a lot to go on…”

“I know.” Rey knew he was right. “But you’ve almost been killed twice in the last two weeks – certainly the crime in New York isn’t _that_ out of control?”

Kylo didn’t respond. He was in a _very_ bad mood, and it was taking all his self-discipline to keep that fact from Rey. When she left with Phasma for an hour to change her clothes and pick up some things for him to wear home, Kylo knew he had to call Snoke.

Phasma had brought him a new phone and his Ka-Bar, discreetly leaving it tucked next to him as she leaned over to tell him how happy she was he was alive. The steely glint in her eyes reflected absolutely zero happiness. Kylo knew the only reason she was bringing him a phone was because Snoke wanted a call. Phasma hated playing messenger.

 _Fuck_.

“Help me to the bathroom, Phas?” Kylo asked nonchalantly. Rey looked like she would have offered, but there was no way she would be able to support his huge frame across the room, especially in his weakened state.

“Why don’t you let me have a few minutes, ladies?” Kylo hinted he needed some privacy, and as he closed the door to the bathroom, he heard Phasma suggest to Rey they go grab him some fresh clothes and give him some time to be alone.

Kylo heard Rey’s reluctant acquiescence and lifted the phone to call his Master.

Snoke was livid.

“Tell me, _boy_ , how is your wound?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Kylo tried to keep his voice from rasping.

“That’s not what I heard. A month to recover? Will you be able to continue your _job_ , or do I need to have Hux take over?”

If Hux took over, Rey might as well be dead.

“No, Master. I’m-“

“How did this even happen, you idiot boy?” Snoke was spitting in anger.

“I was fighting Beyn and made a bad call,” Ren admitted.

“I didn’t train you to make bad calls. _Ever_. How _disappointing_ …I thought I had done so much better with you than any other apprentice…perhaps I was mistaken,” Snoke said cruelly.

“It won’t happen again, Master,” Ren gritted through his clenched teeth.

“See it doesn’t. Or I will make that _injury_ of yours look like a pat on the head. In the meantime,” Snoke continued, “I want the finale performance to feature _both_ you and the girl.”

“Why? She’s just cover…” Kylo’s heart kicked up a notch. Why did Snoke want _Rey_ involved?

“Do not interrupt me again, _boy_. You are already on thin ice as it is,” Snoke hissed. “I want both of you in that finale because together, it will draw out the one person who will be unable to resist attending…and I want certain things _handled_ before that summit happens. Do you understand me?” Snoke hung up before Ren could finish his automatic reply.

“Yes, Master,” Kylo kept his voice level, even though he was speaking into an empty phone.

Kylo was now feeling almost crushed with worry for dragging Rey into yet another plot involving his life as a mobster.

Who would come to a performance because _both_ he and Rey were performing?

Who was making waves for Snoke? _And_ connected to the upcoming UN Summit for Disarmament of Terrorist Factions in the Middle East?

And then his heart sank.

_Mother._

 

It was the longest month of Rey’s life. Although Ben was released from the hospital the day after his surgery, the doctor made it very clear he was to have absolutely no strenuous activity for the next four weeks.

Clearly, that meant sex. Of _any_ kind. Rey was unbelievably frustrated, and her only consolation was that Ben was obviously in the same boat…and at least he was _alive_.

Nonetheless, the past month had been interminable. Especially because the orchestra had begun practicing Ben’s piano concerto and he’d flatly refused to give her even a hint of it. Not a note. Not even the key or time signature. Rey was dying of curiosity and frustration.

So, she decided if any night was a night to make a move to get him to reveal some tidbit, it would be the night the doctor signed off on his health and allowed him to resume full…physical activity.

She knew Ben was as frustrated as she was. In fact, she’d been discreetly teasing him all week in preparation. Every look, every touch, had been calculated to drive him insane. She recalled the intensity of his frustration after just one day of teasing on the day of her debut concert…and she hoped a month of abstinence would be his undoing…She just wanted to know a bit. Just a hint. Rey was not good at being patient, especially with gifts or surprises. 

Rey knew she would not be able to easily manipulate Ben as she had so easily charmed and cajoled her past boyfriends…and they had all been just boys, really, in comparison to Ben. They had been too eager to please in exchange for a passionless smile or some other vapid display of affection.

Ben would not be convinced or persuaded to do anything he did not want to do. Not with a mere gentle pat or a winsome grin.

Ben was not only _not_ a boy, he was a formidable lover, physically powerful, and categorically shrewd – Rey often had the sense that he used his sexuality as both a weapon and a shield. He seemed to know her needs better than she did. And while the idea of letting him sweep her off her feet into his dark, impassioned world was tempting, Rey wanted to leverage the advantage of Ben’s extreme sexual frustration while she had the chance.

He was a man to be reckoned with, and Rey knew if she went up against him in any kind of battle she had a very good chance of losing. Especially if she was going to try to use sex to tempt him into doing what she wanted.

Therefore, her plan had better be a goddamn bulletproof one if she had any chance of getting him to give her a sneak peek at his music…

 

When the doctor signed off on Kylo’s full recovery that morning, Kylo had been sure he was dying. Rey was killing him. Slowly. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how or why, but he knew she was up to something. All week she had been sending out vibes that were positively lecherous. She was just as horny as he was, and she knew there was nothing either one of them could do about it.

Two days into his indisposition, he’d very generously offered to let her sit on his face and she’d refused, claiming it was unfair for her to get off if he couldn’t. No, if he was going to suffer, then so would she. She was just as stubborn as he was, too.

After that, they had mutually decided that until the doctor gave him the green light, they would wait and suffer together, or risk an even longer recovery time, which neither of them wanted. But the last week had definitely been … edgier.

Kylo liked to think Rey would not torture him deliberately, but when he caught her for the second time in a day innocently brushing against his erection, he knew she was up to something. He had a good idea of what she was angling for, too. She’d all but begged him to reveal something about the concerto he was working on.

_Curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart…and I am onto you._

His suspicions were confirmed when Rey and Phasma arrived to pick him up from his check-up; Rey was rosy-cheeked, carrying several shopping bags – one from a high-end lingerie store – and Phasma had an air of scheming about her.

_Oh, girls…you think you are soooo clever…_

He could play this game. He _invented_ this game.

Which is why he didn’t reveal a thing. He would let Rey make the first move. Kylo always played a better game of chess when he was playing Black, anyhow…

He deliberately tried not to touch Rey for the rest of the afternoon. While the deprivation hurt him, he knew he would drive her into a corner, force her to move.

_White piece goes first, sweetheart. Let’s see what you’ve got._

Kylo suggested they grab a bite to eat, and both women agreed they were starving.

Rey’s opening gambit was to hint she hoped it would be all right if she stayed at his place that night. He responded impersonally that it would be good for him to get some work done and the piano in his suite would be convenient. He deliberately kept the conversation on neutral topics. The look on Rey’s face was priceless.

_Feeling frustrated? Think I won’t take the bait?_

By the time they were halfway through lunch, Rey was looking at him with a puzzled expression and Phasma was practically oozing contemptuous humor – Kylo knew Phas was aware of _exactly_ what was happening and apparently didn’t care who was suffering as long as she got to witness it. Kylo shook his head.

_Your move, Rey._

It was a good move, if not a tad obvious. Rey dropped her napkin and leaned over to pick it up. She wasn’t wearing a bra and Kylo could see all the way down her shirt…as she sat back up, she bit her lip, looked him right in the eye and said innocently, “Oops.” His mouth went dry.

Kylo’s next move was to drop into the conversation that the doctor said he was _all_ good. He directed his most smoldering gaze at Rey. He knew it worked because her mouth literally gaped open. _Your turn._

And then he continued his discussion of how the brass section could tighten up their synchronization before the upcoming concert that weekend. It would be the season’s opening night, and everyone had been working very hard.

“Is it hard?” Rey asked, staring at Kylo as if she wanted to rip his pants off. “Your composition, I mean?” Her tongue peeked out to taste her bottom lip.

 _Oh, such a cliché, sweetheart_ , Kylo thought, even as his cock twitched in anticipation.

“That depends on what you consider _hard_ ,” he said gazing back at her with undisguised lust.

Phasma snorted. On anyone else, it would have been completely inelegant. “I’m leaving,” she said without preamble, and then with an airy wave, “You two have fun with your fuck-fest tonight!”

Rey and Kylo barely noticed her leave.

Kylo’s plan to dismantle Rey’s little scheme piece by piece was coming along nicely. First, he was going to make her beg for it. Then he was going to make her cry for it. Then he was going to make her scream for it... He was going to rock her world tonight.

 

She was going to rock his world tonight.

She had the most gorgeous lingerie in her bag, which Phasma assured her would prove to be irresistible. It was the softest of pinks, the bra just sheer enough to show her nipples, but outlined with a delicately ruffled flounce along the top of the cups. A matching sheer pink G-string had a similar flounce around the low-cut waistband. The garter was nothing more than a pink ruffle attached to the straps that would hold up the most gossamer pale pink stockings…it was the sexiest thing Rey had ever owned by far.

“Just remember, if you are really going to make this work,” Phasma had recommended when they picked it out, “You can’t just let him dive right in…you’ll have to hold him off until he can’t speak. Not a word.”

“Then what?” Rey said, fascinated at the workings of her roommate’s mind.

“Then, you have to offer him one piece at a time…but no touching! You are really going to have to drag it out…” Phasma sounded very confident.

“Okay. I can be strong.” Rey tried to mentally steel herself, knowing Ben’s powers of seduction would be working against her resolve. He liked to be in charge. All the time. And she tended to love it when he took over…

“And then, when he’s unable to speak or move, really, that’s when you hit him with the _coup de grace_ ,” Phasma went on.

“Which is?”

“When’s the last time you had a wax? Down _there_?” Phasma retorted pointedly.

Rey turned red.

“That’s our next stop, then.” Phasma winked at her and Rey gulped.

 

Kylo vaguely noticed Phasma had left the diner. All he cared about was that Rey was practically drooling.

_I believe that’s check, sweetheart._

“I’ll get the check, shall I?” he said coolly, signaling the server and pulling out his wallet. The server came over immediately and took Kylo’s card to ring up the bill.

But Rey had one more move.

She stared Kylo right in the eye and asked, “Do you know what a Brazilian wax is?”

Kylo’s tongue almost fell out.

 _Checkmate to Rey_.

_Damn, she’s good._

 

But, even though Rey may have won the first round, they still had at least one more to go. As they made their way out of the diner and Kylo hailed a cab, he was determined to stick to his plan not to touch her. Her final proclamation had cost her dearly, too, and Kylo was much more experienced at the art of warfare and strategy. She had given away too much too soon, and now he would be able to recover his wits and turn the tables.

They got into the cab and he murmured to her, “Mmm. I’ll just bet you can feel _every_ little thing, can’t you?” He stared straight ahead, then gave the cab driver the address to his hotel.

Rey squirmed in her seat. _Yes._ She _could_ feel _everything_. _Maybe the Brazilian wax had been a bad idea…_

He was supposed to be the speechless one, not her.

But she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

He kept talking, just low enough for her ears, “You’re going to be sooo sensitive to every little touch…I’ll have to be extra gentle with you tonight…”

Rey’s pussy clenched and a shiver chased down her spine. This was not going according to plan at all.

“I’ll have to _really_ take my time…be sure you feel every lick of my tongue, every inch of my cock…”

Rey was getting overheated. The cab must have been about a hundred and ten degrees, she was sure of it.

“I wonder how many times I can make you come tonight…”

Rey was close to the edge right now, just from listening to his deep, seductive voice…she glanced at him. He looked back at her and his eyes were ruthlessly black.

“I am going to wear you out tonight, Rey.”

She swallowed. She realized why Phasma had insisted she hold off on the _coup de grace_ – he was somehow using it against her, now. He’d had time to recover his defenses…

The cab pulled up to the hotel, and Kylo hopped out, appearing to the world as if he was perfectly composed. As if he hadn’t just been whispering the wickedest things to her.

She scrambled from the other side of the cab, now unbearably aware of her own arousal, and handed her shopping bags to Kylo.

He grinned naughtily at her, then swept his eyes down into the lingerie bag, catching a glimpse of what was inside.

If anything, his grin became even hotter. All he said was, “Pink. Nice.”

_Round two to him…_

 

Kylo’s mouth was watering at the thought of Rey in pale pink lingerie. But there was no fucking way he was going to let her have the upper hand, now.

_I’m closing in for the kill, sweetheart…and once I get you upstairs…there’s only one way this little Armageddon game is ending…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s endnote: In chess, an Armageddon game is one that is guaranteed to produce a decisive result because if there is a draw it is ruled a victory for Black. In compensation for this White is given more time on the clock.


	22. Dvořák “New World” Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey calls in reinforcements while Kylo strategizes…

Rey was in an altered state of being by the time they reached his suite.

After his last words to her when they exited the cab, Ben had simply handed her the bags and nodded to the entrance of the hotel. The only indication he gave that he was even remotely interested was the scorching-hot look in his eyes.

He had completely unraveled her, just by talking to her. He hadn’t even touched her – at all – and she was already undone.

She needed to buy herself some time to regroup and refocus on her primary goal. She was supposed to be the one driving _him_ over the edge, not the other way around. He may have the upper hand for now, but she had read the _Art of War_ , too, and she knew he was employing full-battle tactics against her defenses right now.

_Appear strong when you are weak. Appear weak when you are strong._

While her first instinct was to jump on him in the elevator and see how fast he could get her pants off, she knew that would have handed him the whole game. And she was not going to let that happen. Not if she could help it.

Somehow this had become more than just a ploy to manipulate him. This had progressed into a full-out battle of wills. And while Rey was usually compliant and happy to lie back and let him take what he wanted, today she was resolute. She would control herself and take charge. _Just for today._

So, she steeled herself into passivity, standing quietly next to him while concentrating on how to proceed.

 

Kylo sensed the shift in her attitude the minute they stepped onto the elevator and felt a thrill at her resistance. _I know you too well, Rey. You might have actually won the day if you hadn’t played your best card too soon._

She was doing a respectable job of maintaining equanimity, too, and he respected her for it, even though he knew it was all an act. _She is actually going to try to fight back. With sex._

That would just make it even better when he won. He didn’t even know exactly what this game was evolving into, he just knew it was going to be mouthwateringly good. Anything with Rey would be good.

He idly wondered how she would extricate herself from the web of desire he’d thoroughly woven around her… _What is she plotting in that pretty little head of hers?_

It took everything he had not to reach for her. The tension was exquisite. Unbearable.

The elevator doors to his suite opened in a soft swoosh, and he gestured for her to go in first, curious to see how she would play this.

She didn’t even look at him, just marched into the master bedroom without a word. He heard the click of the lock on the door.

_Interesting. A tactical retreat._

Kylo sat down on the sofa and waited. He could be patient. For now.

 

Rey locked the bedroom door behind her and then went into the master bath, carrying her shopping bags with her. She needed reinforcements.

Ben was the kind of man who would overtake every part of her life, if she let him, because that was his nature. At the core of who he was, he was meant to rule those around him. And he knew it. And so did Rey.

Rey knew if she pointed this out to him he would readily admit to it, without embarrassment. She knew false modesty was not a trait Ben embraced. If anything, his own unyielding emotional honesty was the fundamental source of his tempestuous personality. And somehow, in this battle of wills, Rey understood him more deeply than she ever had before.

She no longer cared a whit if he would reveal his music to her tonight. She knew that when he did, it would be on his terms and it would be incredible.

Tonight, she was after bigger game.

She wanted everything. She wanted to see…all of him, down to his soul. She had caught rare glimpses of it – that tiny secret part of himself that he kept well-hidden from her. Tonight, she was going to draw out that part and show him that it was okay.

He’d done it to her so many times. He needed to know that he could trust her, too. She couldn’t define why, but Rey knew _this_ was what she really wanted, as surely as she knew her own name.

Because even after a month without sex, the deprivation was just a small part of what she was feeling.

She was madly, wildly, uninhibitedly in love him.

And she was going to get her point across in the best way she knew how. She was going to beat him at his own game.

She pulled out her phone on impulse and called Phasma.

Phasma answered the phone on the third ring, saying, “Oh my god. You can’t be finished shagging each other already. What’s happened?”

“I fucked up the plan,” Rey said quietly. “I mentioned the _coup de grace_ too soon and now he’s, he’s turned everything upside down. I am in real trouble, here.”

“Fuck.” Phasma said, seriously. She and Rey were talking as if this were a matter of life and death. It was deliciously fun, in a bizarre way…

Rey grinned into the phone. “He thinks he has me cornered. He’s just biding his time out there. I’m locked in the bathroom. I don’t know what to do.”

“All right. There’s still a chance you can salvage this. Actually. This might work out even better in your favor. You _really_ need to listen to me, understand?” Phasma sounded as if she were issuing orders to battle troops. Rey listened intently.

Phasma continued, “You need to go for complete disarmament. _No mercy_. What’s his best weapon? And _don’t_ tell me it’s his prick or I’m hanging up.”

“Um.” Rey considered.

“What did he _actually_ do after you dropped the news about your freshly waxed fanny? Why are you locked in the loo?” Phasma probed matter-of-factly.

“He, uh, he said some things…got me…riled up,” Rey confessed.

“Mmm-hmm. So, his best weapon is dirty talk? That’s what gets you going?” Phasma seemed to grasp what Rey couldn’t articulate.

“Yes.” It was true. Rey wasn’t even embarrassed. The way he talked dirty to her had always been the thing that turned her on the most.

“Ok, well, then. We have something to work with. It’s not his words, it’s his _mind_. He knows exactly how to play you, do you see?” She continued, obviously not expecting Rey to answer. “So, you will need to turn his best weapon against him.”

“How?” Rey was at a total loss but fascinated. Rey’s own mind was boggling at how quickly Phasma was able to cut right to the heart of the problem.

“ _Complete. Disarmament._ Take away the best weapon he has. Think about it. What is the one thing he wants? When you two are together? There’s probably one thing he demands _every_ time.”

Rey blushed, even though nobody could see her. “He, um, he likes it when I completely give in…”

“I knew it.” Phasma was decisive. “All right. Here’s what you do. You are going to have to put up a bit of a fight. A misdirect. Get him to focus on that while you disarm him with his own best weapon.”

“So, how?”

“Rey. Don’t be stupid. You use your _leverage_ to force him to stay quiet.” Rey could practically hear Phasma’s eyes rolling.

“ _I’m_ the leverage? _Right?_ ” Rey confirmed. Phasma sighed loudly into the phone.

“He’s possessive and domineering, remember? That means a consensual exchange of power is what really turns him on,” Phasma said. She sounded like she knew what she was talking about. “He likes to be in control, but what he really _needs_ is for you to _let_ him be in control… do you see the distinction?”

Rey felt like a light was turning on. “Yes. There’s a difference between _knowing_ you have power over someone and knowing they are _giving_ it to you? It’s about trust. He needs me to _trust_ him.”

“Exactly! This can work in your favor because if he knows how to play you so well, it means you now know precisely what he wants. So, flip the situation.”  

It made complete sense to Rey. Even when they had that fight in his office, and he’d been holding her down, bent over his desk, he’d asked. He’d been an asshole, but he had made her admit she wanted him, first. He could have just taken her. But he had wanted her to _say it_. Rey could finally see a pattern.

“Are you sure that’s going to work?” Rey asked.

“I’d bet my cello on it.” Phasma’s cello was worth the price of a Lamborghini. A new one.

Rey was amazed and bolstered by Phasma’s confidence, “How do you know so much?”

“Because…I’m a very intelligent woman and a lifelong student of human nature. And Ren and I are cut from the same cloth. Now go put on your _battle armor_ and get to it.” Phasma hung up and Rey took a deep breath.

 

All right. Somehow this had turned from a dangerously erotic game into full-out sexual warfare. Rey was excited and a little scared. She knew what she had to do. But it would be worth it.

The first thing Rey did was call the hotel room service and order up a snack for Ben. That would put him on guard and at ease at the same time. Let him think she was just nervous or making a petty play for revenge.

The second thing she did was strip down and take a shower. She was going to make him wait. _For a while._ She knew it was risky but putting him on edge would unbalance him a bit. He’d done it to her a million times. And she needed him unbalanced. Just for today.

Then. When she was relaxed and in the proper frame of mind, she would put on that sexy pink lingerie, do her makeup and curl her hair, and go out there and get what she wanted.

 

Kylo was not surprised she was taking her time. This was from page one of his very own playbook. _Adaptable. Clever._

_God, I love her._

He _was_ mildly surprised when the bell to the elevator rang after about an hour. Three staff members came in with a cart.

Champagne, strawberries, oysters … and a typed notecard that said, “I’ll be a while. Have a snack. XOXO, R”

_You sly little minx. Trying to throw me off balance. That’s from page two…_

Kylo gave the servers an extravagant tip and sat down to eat.

He put a leash on the frustrated monster trying to claw its way out of him. The longer she took, the better it would be.

He felt the pleasant-painful curl of sexual anticipation unfurl low in his gut.

 

Rey finally, finally stepped out of the bedroom almost two hours later.

Kylo was definitely feeling a bit frayed around the edges. He was seated on the sofa, chin lowered, arms outstretched, feet braced slightly apart, hips cocked forward. He had to give her credit for her fortitude. He had been sure she would have caved by now…But he was not about to relinquish the upper hand just yet.

_You’re stubborn, sweetheart. But at the end of the day, I’ll win every time._

She looked fucking incredible. Kylo’s breath caught at the sight of her dramatically made-up face and artfully tousled curls.

However, when he noticed she was wearing a silky robe that obscured every inch of her from the neck down, he felt a tinge of agitation. He knew what she had on under that robe and he wanted to _see_ it. _Right fucking now_. This Armageddon game had gone on long enough.

He caught himself. _Ah…impatience._ _Interesting move, sweetheart._

Kylo looked at her, not giving away a thing. _When the fuck did you learn to be so strategic?_

“Enjoy your snack?” Rey asked casually. She had long since lost that lust-crazed look in her eyes from earlier. _It won’t be long until I have that look back on your face._

Kylo was, in fact, going to reply when she held up a hand.

The only thing that kept him from speaking was the complete authority in her gesture. It stunned him. And turned him on. _A lot._

He abruptly shut his mouth, waiting to see what she would do next.

 

“Ben, I’m telling you right now, and I _reaaaally_ need you to listen. If you say one word to me before I give you permission to speak, I am going to go back into that bedroom, put on my clothes, and walk out the door.” Rey looked deadly serious.

_No fucking way. You’re bluffing._

He kept his mouth shut. Just in case.

As if she’d read his mind she continued, “I know you think I’m bluffing. But you _know_ me. I’m a terrible bluffer. So you really need to _think_ before you do something stupid. Like talk.”

He was floored. He didn’t say a word.

_Oh, Rey. Wait until I get my hands on you…_

“I have been waiting a month for this, and so have you. And I am horny as fucking hell. But I need you to do things my way for a change. So you are going to have to _behave_ ,” she sounded stern. Rey took another step into the room.

Kylo watched her like a predatory jungle cat, unmoving, except for his eyes roaming up and down her body.

He nodded at her, indicating she should continue.

_All right. I’ll play. Let’s see where this goes…_

“Until I give you permission, you are not allowed to touch me with your hands or speak one word. Or I’m leaving. Nod if you understand me.” Rey had never looked so severe. Her hazel eyes were glinting with fire.

Kylo’s heart started pumping a bit faster and his mouth curved into a wicked smile. He gave her an abrupt nod, nostrils flaring. He let the heat in his eyes flare up a bit.

_Oh. This game. Yeeeesssssss. Let’s play._

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and flickered his eyes up and down her robed body. He didn’t bother to look chastised.

_Oh, Rey, you think this is a game you can win? I don’t think so._

He put his most carnal grin on his face, and let the lust roll off him like a heatwave.


	23. Mozart, Requiem Mass in D Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Armageddon game concludes…

_Good. I’ve got him right where I want him._

Rey watched him carefully. He wasn’t talking, he wasn’t moving. His arms were draped casually over the back of the sofa, shoes and socks kicked off, looking quite comfortable. He _was_ staring at her and he had a _diabolical_ sneer on his face…but he looked compliant enough. And while he had the ability to project his obvious hunger around her like a forcefield, she wasn’t going to let that rattle her.

She had seen it. That flicker of _something_ in his eyes. Her plan was working. She wanted _all_ of it.

 _Time to bring out the artillery. Before he has a chance to fortify his defenses_.

She took a few paces closer to him.

She ever-so-slowly let the slippery fabric of her robe fall off a shoulder.

She noticed his hands grip the edges of the sofa. His knuckles turned white, even though his face remained impassive. His eyes were glowing hot embers.

 

Kylo was going to go up in flames and they hadn’t even gotten to the good part, yet. She was firing up the big guns and she knew she had him trapped…how he had allowed this to happen, he had no idea.

He had no thoughts in his head other than _sit still and shut the fuck up_ or she was going to stop and then he would die.

Kylo had to reign himself in or she was going to fucking _annihilate_ him.

And Kylo hated losing.

Rey turned her back to him and dropped the other side of her robe, baring both shoulders. She turned her head and looked back over a shoulder.

“Do you like my robe?” she purred.

 _Robe? What?_ He thought dumbly. _No, I hate it. Take it off._

He nodded, not daring to move anything else.

He could see the creamy texture of her shoulders and upper back muscles, slightly flexing as she moved her hands up and down her arms, clutching the robe to them. Sliding the silk up and down as if she enjoyed the sensation on her skin…

“Will you help me? Take it off?” she asked.

_Fuck yes. Destroy the robe. Yes. Anything._

He nodded again.

“That would be nice,” Rey said casually. She hiked the robe back over her shoulders and walked to the table where the remnants of his meal were still laid out.

“Are you still hungry? I’m starving.” She leaned over and caught his eye to make sure he noticed the robe gaping open, exposing her cleavage.

Kylo realized he was in deep shit, here. He was going to have to regroup somehow, but he had no time on the clock and his lust was growing by leaps and bounds.

He just needed a minute, but she wasn’t giving him any room to maneuver.

She picked up a strawberry and took a delicate bite. Some juice dribbled down her chin and she smiled at him… _Yes?_

“Oh no. I made a mess. Help me clean it up?” She advanced to him, standing between his legs and hovering into him. _Whatever you want, Rey. Yes._

She tilted her face into his until it was inches away. Her tongue poked out, and she bit her lip. Her eye contact was unflinching.

His mouth was hanging open. He was practically drooling.

“Remember …” she warned. _No hands. Got it._

He leaned forward and carefully kissed the dribble of juice off her chin. He could smell her arousal and feel the heat coming off her. When she quickly stood up and took a step back, he almost jumped after her…but no, he couldn’t. _Fuck_.

So he stayed put. He would be good…for now…

“You’re being so good. I imagine you must be feeling pretty tortured right now,” Rey mused ruthlessly.

His jaw clenched. Every inch of his body was tense. _How are you doing this, Rey?_

And then.

When the realization hammered into him, he _almost_ let it show.

She was using his own tactics on him until he had nowhere left to go. _Oh, clever move._

The _Art of War_. She was good. _Very_ good.

But Kylo Ren was a master tactician.

In the breath of an instant, he slammed down the vault doors on his lust and took in a lungful of air, fueling himself with the power of what he’d just realized: She was caging herself in, too, hoping he would be so wrecked with sexual frustration he wouldn’t notice she was weakening herself as much as him.

_That’s a dangerous move, Rey. Especially when you play it against me…_

He could read her like an open book, now. She was playing a good opening game, taking control of the board early on. But if it were to progress beyond just moving pieces around and avoiding each other, they would have to get to the middle game soon. He would even let her draw first blood if that’s what it took. _Because he knew this strategy inside and out._

At some point, she was going to have to release the rules she’d set in place. _And then._

_Bring. It. On._

“Help me take off my robe, Ben.”

_Yes. Take off that fucking robe._

She stood in front of him and he sat up obediently, not tipping her off he had just figured out her strategy and he already knew her next twelve moves … He would be ready for her… but first. _Play along._

He held her gaze as he slowly moved his hands to the tie of the robe knotted around her waist. _This is okay?_ He asked with his eyes. She gave him the smallest of nods.

He carefully untied the robe, not touching her skin. Her smooth flat belly was exposed and three inches from his face. Kylo’s mind almost snapped.

He leaned forward to kiss her, knowing that was _technically_ not against her rules. His hands peeled the slippery robe back. He was going to push the boundaries of this. _All is fair in love and war, sweetheart._

Before she could stop him, he stripped the damned robe away from her, balled it up, and chucked it out of reach. And then… _ohhhhh, fuuuuuck._ He looked at her.

He couldn’t help it as a groan of pure longing escaped him.

“Do you like my outfit, Ben?” Rey was standing _right_ in front of him dressed in skimpy pink lingerie and looking absolutely delectable.

Kylo’s heart started thudding double-time. He broke into a sweat. He tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

_White draws first blood. Middle game._

 

_All’s fair in love and war, Ben. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? A little bit of both?_

Rey watched his eyes glaze over at the sight of her and prepared herself to be merciless. _Complete disarmament._

His breathing was definitely getting ragged. He looked a little warm under the collar. His cheeks were flushed. _Good_.

She was getting close to losing her mind as well. _Keep going._

“Ben.” He looked at her. “Help me take these off.”

His mouth gaped the word _how_? He looked as helpless as a puppy. His lips were trembling. She gave him her sultriest smile.

“You’ll think of something,” she murmured.

 

Kylo took a breath and swallowed. He wanted that lingerie off of her. He knew she wanted it too. Just a few more moves and he would have her fully ensnared.

He braced his hands on his thighs, scooting forward.

The proximity of Rey’s long, gorgeous legs encased in sheer silk was doing things to him. He accepted it and let himself brush his cheek against her thigh. He looked up at her, as if for permission. Waiting.

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

_Oh, fuck yessss._

He kissed the spot where the garter strap was attached to the stocking at the front of her thigh and caught it in his teeth. He gave it a firm tug and it unsnapped.

When it did, he planted a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the spot. He looked at her as if for approval.

Her mouth was open. Her cheeks tinged bright pink. She put her hands in his hair and stroked his forehead with her thumbs. “That is very good, Ben.”

He hummed against her leg as if to say thank you. Her hands pulled gently at his hair, stroking him with approval. He could smell her arousal through the sheer silk of her panties.

He moved to her other leg and unsnapped the strap as he’d done the first one, followed by another kiss. Now for the back ones…this was the tricky part.

She turned around so he didn’t have to move. The sight of her smoothly curved ass in that G-string right in his face was giving him heart palpitations. He licked his lips. He felt a bead of sweat run down his cheek.

This was going to be close.

He caught the strap with his tongue and hooked it into his mouth, letting his breath heat the back of her thigh at the top of her stocking. Rey gasped at the sensation. _Good. Right where I want you._

_Endgame, sweetheart._

He gave it a tug and kissed the back of her thigh. He slid his tongue over her again, then gave the strap another tug as if to communicate, _I’m trying…it’s stuck…_

Several tugs and hot kisses later and Rey was squirming. _Fuck_. If she didn’t give in soon, he was going to have to do something desperate. After an eternity she moaned in aggravation.

 _Gotcha. You can’t castle out of check, Rey_.

“Ben. Just use your hands. Please.”

_Checkmate._

A thrill of satisfaction raced through him as his hands swept up and deftly undid the back snaps to both stockings, then stroked up her legs to her hips, where he unhooked the closures of the garter belt and yanked it from around her waist.

Then his eyes caught hers as he crushed it in his hand.

 

“ _Oh, Rey_. You shouldn’t have let me do that. You almost had me. Now you’re good and trapped,” he murmured triumphantly.

Rey felt an imperceptible shift in the air as she realized what he’d done: He’d played along, knowing if she got herself worked up enough she’d set, bait, and fall into her own trap for him.

She tried to backtrack. She hadn’t given him permission to speak. But she had no leverage now, and he knew it. She wasn’t going anywhere.

And just like that, he swept the pieces off the board.

He leaned back into the sofa, spreading his arms across the back as he had done earlier. His eyes glittered, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath.

In one motion, he pointed to the ruffled G-string she wore.

“Take it off. _Now_.” His deep voice sent fire through her veins.

She peeled it down her legs and off.

He glanced over her bared flesh and his eyes seared into her. She could feel his gaze like a hot branding iron on her skin.

This felt more dangerous than anything she’d ever done in her life. Her heart was pounding and her body was trembling. She was alarmed by the unmasked desire in his eyes. It was like staring directly into a volcano.

 _This is what you wanted, Rey_ , she reminded herself. _This is him. You love him. He won’t…_

“That, too.” He indicated for her to take off the bra. His voice was whip-like.

She reached behind her back with shaking hands and slowly undid the clasp, pulling the bra down each arm as if hypnotized.

His jaw clenched as he devoured her with his hooded gaze.

After a moment, like Hades rising from the underworld, he stood up.

He prowled around her like a panther, slowly circling her as she stood there, frozen. She was just wearing the sheer pink stockings, held up by the elastic around the tops. She had never felt so exposed. Vulnerable.

“Scared?” he muttered. He looked menacing, like a caged animal.

“No,” she whispered with false bravado. She wasn’t. Not really.

“Yes, you are.” His voice was deadly quiet. He was now unmistakably in charge. He’d taken over so smoothly and thoroughly, and she didn’t understand how it had happened.

She was locked in place as surely as if pinned there by a tractor beam.

 _How is he doing this?_ She thought wildly, even as her resistance evaporated. _Why am I obeying him?_

“You don’t know? Can’t you guess? How I’m doing this?” Was he reading her goddamn mind now? _How?_

He stood directly behind her and she felt his hand caress her spine, low at the back. He swept it around her waist and dipped down, gently cupping her bare sex.

“You should never try to use this against me, Rey.” He gave her a squeeze, right _there_ , between her legs.

He had been right earlier. She could feel _everything_. The warmth of his hand. The slightly calloused fingertips sliding against her naked flesh.

His breathing against her neck was making her entire body shake.

He gave her another squeeze, followed by a slow stroke of his finger. _That felt soooo good._

She couldn’t breathe. She tilted her head, exposing her neck to him. He kissed her above her collarbone, scraping his teeth along her sensitive skin.

“Confused? Can’t figure out how we got here?” His words were punctuated by soft, sucking kisses. “You know the truth. You _know_ why.”

She arched her head and back into the muscled chest pressed behind her. _Tell him, Rey._

“Because,” she moaned in response, “I belong to you.”

 

He froze for a split second. He didn’t even have to make her say it. She’d _given_ it to him.

_I belong to you._

The words split through his soul with concussive force, like a devastating beam of light spearing through a dark, haunted place.

And in that flash of an instant, when he’d been shattered, she had immediately – irrevocably - knit her soul into his as seamlessly as if they were one piece.

_I belong to you._

He knew she loved him, even if she hadn’t said it, yet. Hearing those words from her would have meant a great deal. But part of him knew he had once _been_ loved, albeit long ago - even his toxic family had been capable of _love_.

 _Belonging_.

That was something else.

He spun her around and gripped her arms, his eyes unintentionally reflecting a desperate urgency. If he’d ever felt frantic for anything in his life, it was to hear those words again.

“Say it again,” he whispered hoarsely.

Her eyes were clear as she stared right back at him. “I’m yours, Ben.” Her voice did not waver. “We belong together.”

He pulled her into his arms for a crushing kiss and let the blistering heat of passion overtake them both. Her mouth was soft and wet and warm and he swept his tongue in _fearlessly_. Because she was _his_.

His hands shook as they roamed over her silky skin.

He picked her up and laid her on the nearest flat surface.

_The piano._

She lay there nude, like an offering on an altar.

_Mine._

 

Rey had never seen such naked hope in someone’s eyes until Ben whispered, “Say it again.”

Her heart had broken and simultaneously overfilled with love.

He had kissed her wildly then picked her up and set her onto the closed lid of the piano.

He dragged off his shirt and his chest was heaving. She could see the puckered scar from the healed stab wound in his side. _He could have died. But he didn’t. I love him._

Her eyes told him to keep going. He stripped off the rest of his clothes. Somehow, he always looked even bigger when he was naked.

The force of his desire for her was palpable. _This_. This was what she wanted.

 

Worshipfully, he propped her legs up, placing her feet on the edge of the piano. He stepped up to her and reverently kissed her again.

The unbanked desire in her eyes could have melted glass. She whispered his name. _Ben_.

Her arms were braced behind her, legs splayed open, and he could see everything she had to offer, and for a flash of a moment, he felt incredibly unworthy. But she wasn’t looking at him like he was unworthy. She was _looking_ at him. _Into_ him. _Seeing him._

He hooked her legs over his arms and nudged his erection into that sweet welcoming place between her thighs.

_Mine._

Her breasts were thrust out and her body was quivering. He pushed in slowly.

He felt everything. Every inch of him encased in her tight, slick heat. He was _with_ her.

In that exquisite moment, the sweltering fires of Hell itself couldn’t have been hotter.

_I love you. So fucking much._

He couldn’t ever say the words. And he wanted to _so badly_. But he knew if he did, it would be another promise he would never be able to keep. And he’d already broken enough promises. He was tired of fucking up. He was tired of destruction.

He could show her, though, that he loved her... Or try to.

He caught her mouth with his as he withdrew from her, then pushed all the way in again. She groaned into his mouth and arched her hips.

It felt like a pact. _You’re not alone._

_I’m with you. Stay with me._

They were _inseparable_.

He pulled out and she gave him the most gorgeous little moan of agony.

His heart thundered in his chest as he slowly slid back into her. He gave her a groan of pleasure.

She gasped and arched her hips into him again. He buried his face in her neck and grunted, “Fuck, yes.”

“Yes,” she murmured and he gave her another slow thrust. “Ben, yes.”

Each divinely slow push was rewarded with a gasp of his name. Her breasts bounced gently against his chest as he leaned over the piano, pushing himself into her, just a bit harder. _Mine_.

Every time he hit her depth, he groaned. Words were beyond him now. He could only push and pull against her inevitable clutching heat.

Her body was getting wetter. Tighter around him.

His groans were turning into wordless shouts. He didn’t care. He kissed her, and their breathing harmonized.

Chills chased up and down his spine. _I love you._

“Fuck, yes.” He gritted out.

“You like that,” she stated as her head rolled back, watching him furiously.

“Fuck. Yes!” He exclaimed, his eyes burning into hers.

“You like the way I feel?” Her eyes burned back into his.

“Fuck! Yes!” Louder. Sweat was dripping from his hair.

“You want more?” her voice sounded tight. She clenched her pussy on him and she leaned forward to lick a bead of sweat from his collarbone. “Take it, Ben. Take everything,” she whispered against his skin.

“Yes!” He ground out, deepening his pushes, grasping her softly rounded hips with clawed hands and holding her immobile to take every inch of him.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” she moaned, clenching down on him again. “You feel so fucking good.”

Her words were like a lit match tossed into a tank of rocket fuel.

He groaned into her neck again and tightened his grip on her hips even more, rocking his hard length into her at that same slow-fast pace.

She leaned up again to kiss his chest. He didn’t want to stop. Ever.

Fire shot through him and flared where their bodies were rubbing together.

His body was starting to take over.

He could feel every slide of her flesh against the ridged head of his erection. With a fierce snarl, he pumped into her firmly, over and over, glowering at her.

“Ben don’t stop,” she said fiercely.

“Fuck yes-Rey!” he was losing himself in her eyes. He was going to come soon. It would be as impossible to stop as redirecting a tidal wave.

“Mmmm. Fuuuuucck!” He was yelling now.

“Don’t. Stop.” She demanded.

“I won’t!” He ground his hips into hers, and the excruciating slide and pull of her bare sex against the base of his cock was almost more than he could bear.

He looked down and watched himself driving into her. “Fuck! You can feel it?” He bit his bottom lip in agonized pleasure.

“Ben! I can feel _everything_. Fuck! You’re so fucking huge.”

He leaned down and sucked on her nipple. Her pussy clenched around him. Hard. He wrapped her legs around his hips and started pumping into her much faster now. He sucked harder and groaned into her.

“Yes!” She screamed it. She was coming.

Her hips bucked against him, her inner muscles pulling on his cock.

“Don’t you stop coming, yet, Rey,” he commanded, looking up, glaring into her eyes. “Don’t you stop, yet.”

“Ben!” His name ripped from her throat as another series of contractions rippled through her.

“Oh, fuck, yes, sweetheart, keep going. Right now- do it do it do it, yes fuck yes.”

“Come with me Ben,” she begged throatily - even though he was already there - hurling them both down into the lake of fire together...

He came hard, throwing himself into the crackling inferno with her, in three piercing, quaking thrusts, a wordless shout escaping his lips as he locked eyes with hers in perfect communion.

_I love you. We. Belong._

 

At that moment, in the _after_ , when everything had changed, _Kylo Ren_  simply faded away into a specter, a ghost. A sleeping shadow burned to ash.

For the first time in his life, Ben Solo felt… _complete_.


	24. Mussorgsky A Night on the Bare Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo remembers his past. 
> 
> ***Please remember this piece has been tagged for graphic violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CHAPTER!!! Because I love ya'll! 
> 
> Except...
> 
> Here's where things get dark. If you haven't yet surmised that Ben Solo is due for some reckoning...then, brace yourself. 
> 
> The Pain Train has officially left the station.

_“The piano for example, affords unlimited opportunities to create various forms of expression through music, but only to those who can physically master themselves and the instrument in the form of reach, finger dexterity, posture, breathing, hand-to-eye coordination, and even use of the pedals; in other words, one must be physically able to perform the techniques required to obtain the output of notes. Or, more simply put, just as an athlete must master his physical self to achieve extraordinary physical accomplishments, so must a musician master himself to achieve extraordinary music.” – Maestro Luke Skywalker_

****

**Russia, many years ago…**

Ben had just received word from his dad that Rey was safe. His mind filled with relief and strange anticipation. He would start training in more than just music tomorrow, and his stomach clenched at the words Snoke had spoken to him earlier that day.

“If you want to achieve true power, you must have full mastery over yourself and those around you. This is not an easy task to accomplish, but should you succeed, you will be able to achieve even more than your grandfather ever did.

With your talent, your physical strength, and your quick mind, I could fashion you into such a weapon that none would ever stand in your way. I could make you my heir, boy, but it won’t be without cost.”

Ben’s heart swelled at the word “heir” – nobody in his family had ever wanted him to carry on any kind of legacy. His mind had stuck on the words about having power, the words of praise, and he vowed, “You won’t be disappointed, sir.”

“From now on, you shall call me _Master_ , boy, is that understood?” Snoke scowled at him.

“Yes. Master.” Ben said respectfully, embarrassed at his gaffe.

Snoke sat back in his chair and said, “Tell me what you know of farming, boy.”

 _Farming?_ “Uh. Nothing, Master.”

“Hmmm…I’m going to make an analogy for you. See if you can guess where I’m going with this.” Snoke’s rheumatic eyes crawled over him like … insects.

Ben tamped down his discomfort and nodded respectfully.

“You are an untended field. Rich and fertile with unlimited potential. But nothing but weeds grows there now because the field has been left fallow for too long. If we are to produce a bountiful harvest from this field, what is the best way to proceed?”

Ben wasn’t sure if Snoke was asking rhetorically…he kept silent and Snoke continued.

“The best way to proceed is to remove the weeds, down to the root, burn everything to the ground, and replant from the ashes. This means there must be nothing left of the old … _things_ growing there. And there must be ashes to nourish the new crop. You understand?” Snoke’s watery blue gaze pierced him.

“Yes, Master,” Ben said, an uncomfortable feeling expanding in the pit of his stomach.

“True beauty - true masterpieces - require sacrifices, young Solo. What are _you_ willing to sacrifice?”

Snoke prodded Ben’s shoulder with the tip of his cane.

“Everything, Master.” Ben’s answer was immediate. He had _already_ sacrificed everything. His family, his life in New York. Rey.

“Your training begins tomorrow. If you disappoint me in any way, don’t pretend I don’t know just who will come for you. The answer is _nobody_.” Snoke flashed him an evil grin. “If you commit to this, you will commit to it with everything you have or I will … destroy you and everything you ever _loved_.” The threat was beautifully made, and Snoke’s emphasis on the word “loved” was not lost on Ben, who looked at him questioningly.

“Starting tomorrow, you will have no need for such a pathetic weakness as _love_ …I suggest you …purge yourself of any reminders of the past while you still can.”

Ben felt cold and clammy as he left Snoke’s office. He would be remade, and it sounded scary. But his feet were already on the path. How bad could it really be?

 

It had been beyond what his worst nightmares could ever have produced.

When Snoke had promised he would raze Ben to the ground like a fallow field, Ben had conjured a pleasant image of a farmer walking behind a plow horse or perhaps toiling in the dirt with a rake… nothing like this…torture.

Ben had been assigned to a wing of the school that was surprisingly comfortable, considering the stark, forbidding surroundings of the chilly Russian landscape. He knew he was somewhere in Western Siberia, but he wasn’t entirely sure of the location. He simply knew this was where the Palpatine school was located and had accepted it at face value. Besides, he wasn’t planning on leaving. He had nowhere else to go.

The first day, he had been dragged from his room at an ungodly early hour of the morning and beaten. _Brutally_. Ben had never had anyone lay a hand on him in anger in his life, so that alone had been shocking.

Even more shocking was that, while he was in extreme pain, nothing had been damaged or permanently disfigured. His face and hands looked the same. His body was still functioning normally. No broken bones. Just anguish.

He had moved through his day in a haze of pain and shock. Everyone around him was pleasant, if not somewhat cold. By the time evening came, he was exhausted and vaguely afraid to wake up again. Would the morning beating be an everyday thing or was it just for newbies?

 

When he heard the piercing screams, he’d been terrified. He had been asleep, dreaming vaguely of snow-covered landscapes and being chased by wolves, when he awoke to the bloodcurdling shrieks coming from down the hall.

Alarmed, he huddled in bed, wondering what was happening. Wondering if he was next. For the first time in years, he desperately wanted his mother. He wanted to lie his head on her neck and feel her hug him and whisper, “It’s okay, Benny-boy, it’s okay…” like she had when he’d been little and hurt himself climbing a tree or from falling down after running through the house too quickly. _Home_. _Mother._

Tears sprang into his eyes as he realized this was his home now and would be his new reality for the unforeseen future. He would likely never see his mother again. He had only begun to get a true glimpse of what Snoke had intended for him. 

The screams went on for what seemed to be hours. He hated himself for not getting up to investigate. He hated that he was so fucking scared. Finally, when the screaming stopped, he crawled out of bed and opened the door. He crept down the hall to where he could see a weak shaft of light coming from another student’s cracked open door.

Cautiously, he pushed open the door and felt his stomach heave. A blonde girl his age - he recognized vaguely as – Phas? Phasma? – was lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. She was covered in blood…everywhere. The gore of it was another unfamiliar experience and Ben’s stomach recoiled violently again.

She needed help. She’d been hurt, badly.

He stumbled to her and carefully lifted her head.

“Hey, hey!” He whispered, petrified that the ones who had hurt her would be back and find him. He hated the feeling of cowardice that washed over him.

“Phas – Phasma? Is that your name? Are you okay?”

Her head lolled in his lap. He held her like that for what felt like hours, unsure of what to do…she was still breathing, and her pulse was there, if weak.

He was terrified to lift her nightgown and check for injuries. He was just starting to when a bloodied hand reached out and grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

Her eyes were closed, but she whispered viciously, “Get out. I’m okay. Get out.”

Ben felt conflicted.

“It’s just initiation. They won’t kill me. Just get out of here before … Get out.”

Ben grabbed a pillow from her bed and carefully placed it under her head. Her eyes didn’t open. He wasn’t sure if she was conscious or not. He saw a full glass of water on the nightstand and set it next to her still form, then swept a blanket over her.

Logically, he knew that everyone was going to be subjected to some kind of brutality in all of this; Snoke had obviously meant for physical pain to be part of his training. Ben was trying to be as cold and calculating as he could, but he hadn’t been expecting _this_. He was petrified of whatever his own “initiation” would entail. So far, the beatings had not been bad enough that he’d been covered in blood and unable to move as Phasma had been…

The next night, they came to his room and beat him mercilessly for hours. Nobody came to answer his screams. If he had died, nobody would have known until they came to beat him again.

He was alone. He had nothing. He was nobody. But that was just for now.

 _Someday_ …he would be somebody. Somebody powerful. A force to be reckoned with.

His heart hardened, and he wrapped his loneliness around himself like a shield.

_Nobody’s coming for you, Ben._

_You’re alone._

_So be it._

  

Music lessons were mandatory and overseen by Snoke himself, who encouraged Ben to play what he wished and to fuel his playing with his rage.

Part of Ben understood this was a necessary process. Within the first week, his playing had improved dramatically. If he’d been good before, he was now bordering on genius. He knew it, and he tried not to question the physical punishment he was subjected to, given the results he’d seen in just a week with the music.

The one thing that kept him going was writing to Rey. Nobody had told him he couldn’t write, and Ben had noticed several other letters from other students placed in the outgoing mail on the hall credenza. In fact, Snoke had told Ben several times he could leave whenever he wanted if he preferred not to be trained. Ben took that to mean that Snoke’s initial threat about killing him had been a mere test of his resolve. And so, Ben stayed, and wrote to Rey and learned and took his beatings until they became routine.

It was so subtly done, Ben didn’t realize the others at the school were being subjected to the same conditioning as he was. While he knew to form any kind of comradery or attachment was a bad idea – they were strictly forbidden from interacting with each other unless they were training – Ben realized if others were here for the same purpose he was, then he could manage this.

After a while, the early morning beatings became routine, and when he no longer begged them to stop, they stopped immediately.

 

By the time his own initiation came, he welcomed it. It had been as he’d expected. _Ruthless_. Not like the other times.

After, he lay on the floor, gasping, nearly unconscious, covered in blood. He was sure he had some broken ribs and his right eye was swollen shut.

 _That part was over. That was the hard part_ , he told himself as he lay there shivering on the cold, hard floor.

Nobody came for him. He didn’t expect anyone to.

 _I'm going to be a masterpiece,_ he thought weakly, right before he passed out.

The next day, his training became something else entirely, and he knew he had to stop writing to Rey.

_He had to kill the past. All of it._

 

**A month ago**

Kylo woke up in a cold sweat, with an agonizing ache in his side. _Surgery. Beyn stabbed you. Rey got away…_

He had been released from the hospital that day. Phasma and Rey had taken him back to the hotel. They had come back to the hospital after his call to Snoke, Rey with a bag of clothes and things with her. She was going to stay with him.

 _Where is she?_ He glanced around the darkened bedroom and heard her running water in the bathroom. She came in a moment later with a glass of water and her palm out, carrying some pills.

“Ben? I didn’t mean to wake you,” she carefully climbed on to the bed and knelt next to him. “You were thrashing around, and I figured it might be time for your pain medicine.”

She held up the hand with his pain meds and carefully placed the pills into his mouth, then gave him a drink of water from the glass. He took several large swallows of water, then sat back into the pillows.

Her eyes were deep pools of concern. “Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry. Were you having a bad dream?”

She set the glass on the nightstand and swept his hair back from his forehead.

“I’m okay.” His voice was hoarse. His side hurt, but it hurt him more to see the concern in her eyes. “Come here.”

He pulled her into his uninjured side. She was being so cautious not to bump him or jiggle the mattress. _You’re such a sweetheart_ , he thought. _I so don’t fucking deserve you, Rey. I am a bad, bad person._

Her head was tucked into the crook of his arm, her hand on his chest. Careful to avoid jostling his injury, he placed his other hand on top of hers.

She sighed. “I’m so glad you didn’t get killed, Ben.” Her voice shook, but she was holding back the tears. Probably trying to be strong for him.

 _Fuck_. He felt a prickle of wetness forming behind his eyes. He kissed the top of her head and said quietly, “Yeah. Me too.”

He had never felt so unclean. He had never loathed himself so much. He had never felt like such a _monster_.

_You need to tell her. You need to tell her everything. Tomorrow._

 

When he awoke the next morning, Kylo was weaker than he’d been in many, many years. He hurt. But even worse. He finally knew Snoke’s plan.

_Mother._

It was all about taking out the key players in the upcoming UN summit. His mother, while no longer a force in the world of music and performance, still wielded a significant bit of power in her philanthropic work. Her main project for the past decade – The Resistance – had been to aid in forming a coalition of politicians to fight against terrorist armament in the Middle East…and subsequently, this made business very difficult for the First Order.

As _The Resistance_ gained traction, Snoke had become increasingly annoyed with the group’s effectiveness. They had managed to call attention to work he had previously conducted in the shadows, bringing the issues of arms dealing to the front and center of an international stage.

New York. The United Nations. Snoke was going to take out a number of key players all at once. Kylo knew it.

Kylo’s mind was working overtime. There was no way Snoke’s people would be able to totally breach security at the UN, even if Hux was already there undercover. Snoke would never try anything at the summit.

He was going to do it at a concert. A big one. Where else might a group of powerful people from around the world gather in one place, where security would be so much more lacking? And a performance that included Kylo Ren, who was already confirmed to be one of the best musicians in the world, along with Rey, up-and-coming musical genius equally as talented as Ren, if not as well-known? Leia wouldn’t miss that for the world – Rey had been one of her protegees from Eternal Hope.

Even Kylo’s concern for Rey’s safety was somewhat eclipsed under the current risk to his mother – Kylo knew Rey would be protected for now, even more so than before, if she was to be the necessary bait to get Leia to that performance.

Hux would ensure the UN diplomats who needed to be there attended.

It explained why Hux had not confronted Kylo again about his relationship to Rey. He most likely assumed Kylo was keeping her close so they wouldn’t lose their best lure…

The final performance Snoke had mentioned was scheduled for three days before the summit. That would mean that most, if not all, of the key diplomats would be in New York.

But with Phasma’s and Rey’s lives so interconnected, and Kylo’s every move likely being watched microscopically, how could he do anything? If Snoke was even mildly nervous about something being off, Rey would be dead and Snoke would just find a less elegant solution to dismantle the summit.

Kylo was walking on very dangerous ground. He didn't know what to do. 

The only one he had to blame was himself. A _masterpiece_ , indeed.


	25. Schubert Serenade for Piano in D Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for opening night.

**_A month ago_ **

As Kylo lay in bed, thinking about Snoke’s plan, he heard the soft sounds of the piano from the living room. _Rey? She is playing the piano?_

It was the Schubert _Serenade_ , a truly gorgeous piece of music. _She’s really good_ , Kylo thought. He sat up carefully and the dull ache in his side momentarily became a spasm of sharper pain. Nevertheless, Kylo was a master of pain, so he ignored it; he threw on one of the hotel robes and silently walked out to the living room.

She was facing away from him, and he stood there, watching her sway gently as played. She moved as elegantly as a young willow tree swaying in the breeze. It struck him again, the contrast between their techniques: If he was all thunder and force, she was a gentle, healing rain. Her technique was no less powerful than his, if not more subtle in her careful regard for every note.

When the Schubert was finished, she moved on to the Adagio from Moonlight Sonata, and Kylo almost broke down. Privately, he had always thought of that as “their” song – it was what he’d been playing on the unforgettable day they had first met, ages ago.

He had to tell her. _Everything. Soon._ But until he figured out what to do, he just wanted one more day…

She stopped abruptly, shoulders slumping.

“Rey?” Kylo asked tentatively.

Her hands went to her face before she turned on the bench to face him. She was crying.

“Oh! Ben. I didn’t realize you were awake,” she said shakily. “I was just…”

He was across the room in a few swift strides, kneeling in front of her. He took each of her hands in his and kissed them, first one, then the other.

“Sweetheart. Please don’t cry,” he begged. Her hazel eyes sparkled with tears. It was killing him.

She gently smoothed his hair back from his forehead and leaned into him, pulling his head into her lap.

Kylo was in heaven and hell at the same time.

“I hope my playing didn’t wake you,” she said softly. “I just never have time to anymore, and I miss it sometimes.”

He grinned up at her, concealing his inner turmoil. “You’re very good. I can tell Luke Skywalker gave you a well-rounded education.” The mention of his uncle sent a gust of fury through him, but Kylo didn’t let it show.

“ _Stick to the score_ , right?” She smiled back at him.

He shifted his legs. The position he was in was not great for his injury. She noticed and said, “Get off the floor! You should be lying down, for heaven’s sake.”

Kylo stood up gingerly and sat next to her on the piano bench.

“Play with me?” he asked.

He was on the left-hand side, she was on the right. She would play the treble clef and he would play the bass, meaning he would use his left hand and rest the right side where his injury was low-key throbbing.

“Nothing too exciting,” Rey admonished, even as her eyes lit up.

“Hmmm. _Clair de Lune_?” he suggested.

“Okay, but you’re in charge of the pedals,” she laughed, and put her right hand to the keys, as he wrapped his right arm around her, skootching them together.

The warmth of her at his side put a lump in his throat. When she rested her head on his shoulder, it almost destroyed him.

_I love you,_ Kylo thought, as they played.

The wound in his side faded into an indiscernible, far-away ache.

The bittersweet aching in his heart was another matter altogether.

 

 

The only thing that kept Kylo in check was Rey.

Her constant presence over the next month was a balm, even as it was becoming unbearably difficult for Kylo not to simply tell her everything and hope for the best. About what he’d kept from her. Her parents. His training. His life in Russia. The risks he’d taken with her life…

He spent the next month preparing the orchestra. He spent every minute he could with Rey; he desperately missed their physical relationship, but, even worse, he knew he was living on borrowed time. He had to figure out what to do.

Especially now that he knew his mother was in danger.

His mood was often borderline malignant with the stress he was under.

Fortunately, he was able to blame most of his dark mood on stress resulting from being tired and recovering from being stabbed: But the bottom line was he needed everyone performing at their very best. He would have to make this a spectacular concert series, culminating in a highly-anticipated finale. One that the world’s elite would not want to miss.

Snoke would be tipped off immediately if the performances were anything less than stellar. And if Snoke had even a hint that Kylo’s loyalty was wavering, Kylo knew Snoke would have no hesitation in sending in the Knights of Ren in for Plan B. It would be messier, but just as effective, Kylo had no doubt.

Snoke was cruel and vindictive. He would _never_ let Kylo out alive.

When Snoke had vowed to kill everything Kylo loved so long ago, he had meant it, and Kylo knew that threat still held, even after all these years.

Snoke would go through every person in Kylo’s entire life like a thresher and send in the Knights of Ren to hunt them down like dogs and kill them all in the most brutal way possible. Kylo knew now without a doubt it would include his parents, his uncle, probably even Lando and Chewie. And Rey – anyone even remotely connected to him.

Kylo Ren was living the life of a condemned man. This was a stay of execution.

He cursed his gift, not for the first time.

There was really nobody else who could do what he could.

 

It wasn’t that Kylo Ren had no self-control; Rey knew he was one of the few people she’d ever met who could entirely mask his intentions from the world. No, he was just so intense that it often felt as if their work, their performance was a matter of life and death, somehow. It made him unpredictable.

This unpredictability that occasionally cropped up as they prepared for opening night kept most of the orchestra walking a tightrope between admiration and respect for his talent and terror of what might happen if they messed up. Not that he ever _did_ anything scary – it was just a general air of malevolence that seemed to emanate from him when he was frustrated.

However, he always remained coolly polite, consummately professional, and very, very calm. Even when he lost his temper.

He took his music seriously. Rey chalked it up to his highly sensitive, artistic temperament. And layered over that, she was sure there was a fair bit of sexual frustration, as well.

The first time he lost his temper was justified, at least in Rey’s opinion. The cello section had blundered badly at rehearsal and Ren had stated calmly several times they needed to pay attention to his direction, and not take over the tempo. Instruments that played in the bass clef set the audible tempo for the rest of the orchestra when they weren’t watching the conductor. If they went too quickly or too slowly, the rest of the orchestra would follow instinctively.

After the fourth time, Ren rapped the baton on the edge of the podium, looked Phasma square in the eye and said to the orchestra at large, “Let’s take a ten, everyone.” His quiet command was belied by the furious look on his face.

Everyone had shuffled nervously to see if his infamous temper would result in further demonstration, but he simply turned and stomped out of the room, leaving everyone whispering, scandalized at the cello section. Everyone could sense a simmering undercurrent from his displeasure.

In those moments, Rey knew he was holding back his infuriation with an ironclad will, because she had seen his temper before. Not to mention the fact that, as an international celebrity, everyone, herself included, had heard of Kylo Ren’s infamous temper on at least one occasion. This quiet, controlled version was quite contradictory to the smashy-breaky-shouty version she’d personally endured on several occasions. And it was quite a bit scarier, for some reason.

He worked them all relentlessly, and any scrap of praise was hard-earned, but somehow even more valuable to those who received it. His approval was usually awarded sparsely and in the form of an appreciative nod or almost smile. Strangely enough, those rare moments seemed to inspire the group to work even harder.

It rapidly became obvious to everyone they were working with someone of legend status. Every member of the orchestra quickly learned his approach to music was unique: Although volatile, he was also logical, thoughtful in his approach to each note, each instrument.

He frequently stopped in the middle of a run-through to discuss music theory or test new ideas. This was new to many of the longer-term members of the group, as Luke Skywalker’s methods were very different.

Luke stuck to the original score, _always_. Ren had a fearsome tendency to make his own modifications, changing the pace or volume to suit his own interpretation, even going so far as to have certain instruments play sections of music an octave above or below the original composition.

Although he was known for his expertise in piano and violin, he could read music fluently in any key signature. He knew an incredible amount of music theory and could explain techniques even for instruments he’d never played.

Most interesting to the group at large, was the fact that Ren was able to memorize an amazing quantity of music. Every note, every part, all of it. After the first sight-reading, where he would make extensive notations on the conductor’s score, he would come back the next day and have a whole symphony memorized.

These sorts of demonstrations underscored his true gift. Ren was a genius with music, even if a moody and often rough-around-the-edges leader.

He was at once arrogant and humble. He considered earnest questions with his full attention; however, rebellion or disagreement often led to freezing silences and dark, brooding glares. This most frequently occurred between him and Phasma, who, while she was cooperative to a point, frequently quailed against Ren’s heavy-handed delivery. It didn’t help that they were long-time acquaintances and she was unfazed by his withering stare.

However, any doubt of his ability to lead them through an incredible performance was dispelled as the extent of his gift became clearer. He was unconventional, but his risky choices made music that was hundreds of years old new again.

 

**The morning of dress rehearsal…**

Kylo was going to lose his shit if the woodwinds didn’t get it together. Suddenly, out of the blue, they were coming in late _and_ flat.

They were almost through the final run-through and he almost couldn’t stop himself from yelling “More!” at the brass section.

Phasma was glaring at him mutinously and Rey was doing her best to studiously ignore his vexation with everyone in the room.

Opening night nerves were nothing compared to the pressure he was under, especially after his very recent conversation with Snoke. Snoke had made it very clear that if tonight’s opening concert did not draw some serious attention, that he would have to consider “other options” regarding the UN summit.

Kylo knew he would have to center himself. He thought about the thing he had used for many years to focus on when meditating: His grandfather’s ashes.

The ashes of Anakin Skywalker had been contained in a small, carved mahogany box for as long as Kylo could remember.

When he was little, he had asked his mother about them; she had been strangely reticent to discuss her father, although the box had obviously meant something to her.

Later, he had tried asking his Uncle Luke about Anakin Skywalker, and Luke had simply told him that Anakin had been an amazing musician. The haunted look in Luke’s eyes had prevented his nephew from asking further questions.

When he left New York to go to Snoke in Russia, on an impulse, Kylo had taken the box on his way out of his mother’s apartment. A petty act of revenge on his uncle and mother, to be sure, although it had been highly satisfying at the time...

Snoke had thought it hilarious when Kylo asked if he could keep the box of ashes when he’d first arrived at the Palpatine school. “Your grandfather was the only worthy thing that ever came out of the Skywalker family. You may keep it. You may meditate on those ashes every time you feel you need…inspiration…”

For all of his disapproval of hanging onto the past, Snoke seemed to be fine with allowing Kylo to keep his grandfather’s ashes over the years. Even during the worst, most painful and humiliating parts of his training - the beatings, the surprise room searches, and torture - even Snoke’s enforcers understood that Anakin Skywalker’s ashes were to remain in place on Kylo Ren’s dresser.

The box was still in Kylo’s suite of rooms in Russia; the rooms were kept ready for him at all times. Kylo knew the box wouldn’t be disturbed. He thought of it as he reigned in his ever-increasing desperation. 

_Grandfather, if I’ve ever needed inspiration, now is the time._

Dress rehearsal ended shortly after that, and Kylo excused the orchestra with a curt nod and an, “I’ll see everyone tonight.”

 

**Opening Night of the Spring Concert Season**

Kylo adjusted the bowtie of his tux and turned, just as Rey exited the bedroom. She looked stunningly beautiful and did a little turn for him to show off her gown. He whistled in approval at her curves outlined in the sleeveless black satin sheath dress she was wearing. Her eyes sparkled through the dramatic dark eye makeup she wore.

“Wow.” For some reason he couldn’t manage more than that. She literally stole his breath away.

“Wow, yourself!” She exclaimed, her eyes raking over his body. “Ben, you are so handsome. I think you in a tux is my _second_ favorite look on you!”

She approached him with a smile and reached up to help him adjust his tie.

“What’s your first favorite?” he asked, curious.

She gave him a naughty smile and said, “You, standing in the hallway over there, dripping wet, wearing a teensy-tiny towel…”

He gave her a rueful chuckle, but he couldn’t muster too much humor. His mind was still on dress rehearsal that morning...it had not gone well. That, on the tail of a very worrying conversation with Snoke, had put him on edge.

Rey seemed to read the direction of his thoughts and gave him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry about dress rehearsal – everyone knows if the rehearsal is crap, the performance will be amazing!”

_God, I hope so, sweetheart. It’s a matter of life and death._

Kylo mustered a smile for her and whispered in her ear, “So long as you’re wearing underwear when you're onstage this time, we should be all good…”

But despite the joking, he felt an icy wind blow through his heart.

He had finally decided what to do.


	26. Orff Carmina Burana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opening night of the spring concert season; Kylo sets things into motion.

**Opening Night Concert –**

When the orchestra was tuned and seated, Kylo Ren walked onstage with barely a curt nod to the loudly appreciative audience; Ren never engaged with the crowd, nor did he _ever_ perform encores.

However, watching him conduct was a show in itself, so nobody in the audience ever felt disappointed.

The orchestra stood respectfully as Ren took his place at the podium, an unnecessary accouterment since he did not require a score, having long since memorized the music. He looked both handsome and severely intense.

His expressive eyes communicated exactly how he wanted them to play and glowed fanatically from under his stern brow as if he were possessed by some unspeakable, unnamable force. The players were merely his conduit through which he would channel it.

_You are mine to command. You will obey._

Every backbone on the stage snapped straight to attention.

Ren was a perfectionist, and he expected nothing less than total focus. Each member of the orchestra knew that Ren, like Berlioz, had an uncanny knack for being able to detect the music from a single instrument, even when the entire orchestra played together at full volume. Not one player wanted to receive one of Ren’s infamously frigid stares in the middle of a live performance.

_You will perform. Faultlessly._

As one, they lifted their bows and instruments.

_Do not fail me._

He inhaled. They inhaled.

 _\- the breath before the start -_  

His hooded eyes seemed to meet every players’ in silent communication.

_…and now…_

Ren’s hands stretched forth, holding his baton almost straight out in front of him, as he glared down his arm at them all.

_\- the connection made, a mind-meld, like the last moment before death -_

They exhaled.

_…play._

He lowered the baton with a languorous hand. The other hand he held palm down, fingers splayed, and seemingly _pulled_ the music from their instruments. He did not wave the baton in the same flowing, graceful movements as Luke Skywalker had, but rather whipped it through the air, cutting like a knife.

Ren was a powerfully built man, with a body that might’ve been better suited to armed warfare than the musical arts. However, his graceful frame was somehow perfect for conducting music, which was conveyed in many subtle ways: From the lift of his brows to the pursing of his full lips, the flashing of eyes, the dark hair tossing, the gentle stomps, and even the elegant lurching of his shoulders, it was obvious that Ren _felt_ the music. If such a thing were possible one would almost think that he could _physically_ control it with his body as it flowed _through_ him to the spectators beyond.

_Conducting. Like electricity._

The heat from the stage lights was unbelievable, and Ren developed a light sheen of sweat from the combination of the physicality of his performance and the incredible heat coming off of the lights. Every eye in the concert hall was focused solely on him.

There was something scintillating about the contrast of him dressed in the utmost formal attire while his energy zapped through the air in furiously controlled motions. By the end of the finale, his teeth were bared, and his dark head was almost whipping back and forth. The tension in his broad shoulders could be seen and felt from the farthest seat in the back row.

The crowd was eating it up.

Every person present, including the players, was now feeding off this inexplicable energy; they knew they were witnessing more than just a truly special performance, but a truly special artist. Another Bernstein or Solti or Sir Colin Davis.

The performance was sensational.

When it ended, Kylo realized he was getting a standing ovation. But he could feel no joy in it.

As he turned to bow to the wildly cheering crowd, motioning for the orchestra to rise from their seats, as well, Kylo could only think one thing: _I’ve done it._ _This is the beginning of the end._

 

**That morning…**

Kylo was pretty sure Phasma was having him watched. There was no way she trusted him, especially the way he had been around Rey lately; Phasma was way too smart to believe his act about wanting to keep an asset close…

Phasma never did or said a word to show she knew or cared, though. As far as anyone could tell, Phasma was simply the newest cellist for the New York Philharmonic, Rey’s roommate, and, to those who hung out with her on Monday nights, an excellent dart player. Nevertheless, Kylo had long ago learned to trust his instincts, and the prickle at the back of his neck that told him he was under surveillance was rarely gone these days.

He was also positive all of his outgoing and incoming phone calls and messages were being screened. It wouldn’t have surprised him if they had bugged his hotel room, but he swept it thoroughly every time he returned and never found anything; however, that didn’t mean they couldn’t monitor him closely, if from a bit of a distance.

He thought about picking up a burner phone and using it to call someone, but he had long forgotten the phone number of anyone who could help. He knew his mother was probably being watched closely by Hux, as well, so any direct communication to her would result in death. Hux was very thorough.

That really only left one way to do what he needed to do, and Kylo was loath to place his hopes on Luke Skywalker.

Kylo had finally figured out a way in, he just needed his damned uncle to pick up the hint.

They were at Rey and Phasma’s place, and the abysmal dress rehearsal had just ended. Rey was going to hop in the shower and Phas was taking a nap, of all things. Kylo had a rare moment alone.

Kylo knew now was the time. He moved silently into Rey’s room and found her phone on the dresser. _Thank God, she’s got Uncle Luke in her contacts._ Kylo had been counting on Rey having his uncle’s number. He figured Luke was probably being watched, too, though, so a direct call was out of the question.

_Better safe than everyone dead._

Kylo opened a new text message and typed:

_Hey U Luke, got a B SOLO coming up and lots of EYES R ON ME. Nervous for Leia to see it. *skull emoji* Finale is DEADLY. Don’t want to bomb. *bomb emoji* U r my 2nd father, u know? Far less disappointing than my own. *two dice emojis*_

He hit send and waited.

A few minutes passed, and then, to his relief and mild surprise, Kylo saw the three telltale dots indicating Luke was responding.

Kylo’s heart almost stopped beating when he saw Luke’s reply: _Hey, Kid. You know we’re still family, right? How can I help?_

Luke got it. Not just the message. He understood the meaning behind it.

Kylo replied: _Need moral SUPPORT before things get crazy. Ren’s making me Stick to the Score._ _*devil emoji* I wish there was another Solo I could use. *two dice emojis*_

Luke: _I wish I could see that score sometime._

Kylo responded: _It’s bad._ _*explosion emoji*_ _NOT for YOUR eyes, TRUST ME. *wide-eyed emoji* Probably needs totally fresh eyes on it._

The shower stopped, which meant Rey was getting out any second.

Luke: _Well, let me know if you want to talk about it, Kid._

Kylo: _Any time! Just not Monday night – that’s when I go to the Cantina for beers, remember? GTG, *heart emoji* R._

Kylo deleted all of his sent and received messages and replaced her phone just as Rey stepped out of the bathroom wearing a towel and a very seductive smile.

He smiled back and crooked his finger at her. _Come here._

Rey giggled and dropped her towel. Kylo had only a little bit of trouble pushing aside his worries over the next part of his plan. He just wanted to get his hands on her.

He would think about the future later and enjoy this moment while he could.

Because now that his decision was made and his plan was in place, Kylo knew things could only end one way if he wanted to keep Rey safe and protect his mother.

He was going to have to die.

 

**Next Monday**

After the resounding success of the opening concert, everyone in the orchestra was in a celebratory mood. Quite a few people ended up at the bar after work, making it crowded.

The extra people present suited Kylo just fine. He was hoping his uncle had picked up on the hint not to show up in person – anyone from Kylo’s past who communicated with him at this point would be highly suspect.

_This is so fucking dangerous._

Kylo could feel whoever was watching him and was trying to figure out if it was the dark-haired woman playing pool or the old man at the bar when he realized it was both. But only one of them was friendly.

“Hey, everyone, we are going through beer at an alarming rate – next round is on me!” he said jovially.

There was some half-hearted protest at his proclamation, and Rose piped up, “No, you shouldn’t – it’s the _rule_ we _always_ split the bill right down the middle!”

“Let’s make a one-time exception. You all did a spectacular job on Saturday. One time. On me,” Kylo stood and gave her his most charming wink. Thankfully Rose didn’t argue, so Kylo wouldn’t have to think of some other excuse to approach the old man at the bar.

_This is the guy Luke sent, I know it._

Kylo made passing eye contact with the man and pulled out his wallet. The bartender gave a friendly grin to one of his new “Monday night regulars” and turned to fill another pitcher at Kylo’s low-voiced request.

“I’ve been watching you play darts, young man. You have quite a talent,” the old man said, voice pitched at just the right timbre to convince anyone listening that he was simply engaging Kylo in friendly conversation.

“Thanks,” Kylo said in similar tones.

“Name’s San Tekka. Lor San Tekka,” the old man stretched out his hand to give Kylo a friendly handshake.

“Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Kylo Ren.” Kylo slipped a folded sheet of paper into the man’s outstretched hand as smoothly as if he was passing a fifty to a valet.

“Kylo Ren? Aren’t you that _musician_?” the old man slipped the sheet into his pocket in a move that Kylo recognized to be expert sleight of hand.

“Yes, sir. I’m with the New York Philharmonic. Current Artist in Residence although something of a _cipher_ ,” Kylo nodded agreeably, hoping the man would pick up on the slight emphasis on the last word of his sentence, not to mention its unusual context in the conversation. That sheet he’d just handed over would be useless without a cipher.

Kylo was not taking any chances.

“I imagine you must get asked this all the time, but I can’t resist – “ San Tekka gave him an understanding nod.

Kylo grinned at him. “I’ll humor you. Ask.”

“What’s your favorite piece of music?”

 _Moonlight Sonata_ , Kylo thought. “Easy,” he replied, “Brahm’s _Lullaby_. My mother used to sing it to me.”

San Tekka gave him a wise nod and a big smile. “You know where you come from. That’s a good thing to remember.”

The bartender turned and slid the pitcher of beer across the bar to Kylo. Kylo left a twenty on the bar. Next to it – as if by magic or sleight of hand – was a pair of bronzed dice connected by a thin gold chain.

The sight of those dice almost made Kylo lose his composure. But, he swept them smoothly off the bar and into his pocket, gripping them hard enough to leave indentations in his palm.

“Thank you,” Kylo said hoarsely as he turned with the pitcher of beer in his hand. “Nice to meet you, San Tekka.”

“See you around, kid,” replied San Tekka, as he turned back to his drink.

 

As he approached the group at the back of the bar, Kylo felt a strange burden settle over him. His father would help, somehow. Uncle Luke must have reached out to him, suspecting he might be under some kind of surveillance. If anyone could get a message to his mother, Han could deliver it personally, without suspicion.

Kylo’s information had been carefully inked onto sheet music, in code. Only someone who could read music and who had the cipher would be able to understand it. Luke and Leia would be able to figure it out.

Kylo had to hope that they would follow his instructions to the letter. If they did anything that tipped off Snoke at this point, they were all dead.

“Oh, he’s got the whole group psychology thing down pat, no question,” he heard Finn say over his beer.

“Please tell me you’re not talking about me?” Kylo said, refilling Rose’s and Rey’s empty glasses.

“When I was in the Army, they did the same type of thing at Basic. Break you down, then build you back up the way they wanted...” Finn continued as if Kylo wasn’t there. The unspoken rule of Monday Night Group was that work talk was totally allowed: It was fine to bitch about your boss, without repercussions, so long as, if you happened to be the boss, you could bitch about incompetent, ungrateful subordinates…

Rose nodded in agreement, and Phasma raised an eyebrow.

“Break you down? I seem to recall each of you performing at your peak on Saturday. What’s the problem?” Kylo feigned friendly indignation, even as he recalled his own training under Snoke.

Phasma eyed him quietly before excusing herself to the ladies’ room.

Finn, Rose, and Rey all laughed and Rey even tossed a wadded up napkin at him – everyone, Kylo included, knew that he had been a nightmare to work with for the past month.

“I’m just saying that my methods get results, especially when people have trouble remembering basics…like playing in tune, counting to four…” Kylo’s words were overridden by a fresh outcry from everyone, even as they all laughed.

Kylo’s father’s dice weighed heavily in his pocket and the bitter taste of guilt crept into his mouth.


	27. Beethoven Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo reveals some important information to Rey.

Snoke called him very early the morning after the concert.

“I was most impressed to hear of your success yesterday. The world is already buzzing with anticipation,” Snoke said with grudging admiration.

“Thank you, Master,” Kylo spoke very quietly. He was speaking in Russian. Rey was sleeping in the next room.

“I must say I was questioning your commitment to this job after your last _mistake_ ,” Snoke cackled phlegmily.

Getting stabbed by Beyn had been a mistake. Kylo knew it and felt fury flow into him. He didn’t need Snoke to remind him.

“I know what I have to do, Master. I won’t make any more _mistakes_.” Kylo’s blood was boiling.

_I’m coming for you, old man._

“That’s good to hear. My health isn’t what it used to be. I need to ensure someone _capable_ can take over the First Order…someday.”

_You will be dying sooner than you think, Snoke._

“I’m committed. You know I’ve given everything I have to the First Order,” Kylo fought to keep his voice under control _and_ sounding nearly sycophantic without overacting. Snoke appreciated respect, not false flattery. It was a fine line to walk.

Kylo gripped his father’s dice in his hand.

“Mmmm. Yes. And what about the girl?” Snoke asked, cannily changing the subject to the one topic Kylo had been hoping to avoid.

“What about her?” Kylo asked nonchalantly.

“Don’t prevaricate with me, boy. I know you’ve spent nearly every minute with her for the past month or more,” Snoke expected Kylo to reassure him. “You haven’t gotten too _attached_?”

“The girl means nothing to me. It’s just easier to keep her close than leave her with Phasma all the time.”

“Hmmm…well if the girl turns out to be a problem, you or Phasma may have to eliminate her _sooner_ rather than _later_ ,” Snoke jabbed ruthlessly. The implication was clear.

Kylo choked down a surge of bile and replied evenly, “Whatever means necessary, Master.”

Snoke produced a string of long, disgusting coughs. He never bothered to hold the phone away when he did that, and it grated on Kylo’s nerves to hear Snoke’s revolting hacking directly in his ear.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed the _targets_ by now?” Snoke prodded.

Kylo struggled to keep his voice from trembling, “Yes, Master.”

_Mother. The Resistance. The UN Summit. Not if I can fucking help it, you scummy piece of shit…_

“It’s going to look like a terrorist attack. It will happen immediately after the final concert. Security will be at its weakest point as the crowds disperse. They’ll be expecting something earlier on if they suspect anything.” Snoke confirmed what Kylo had already guessed.

Snoke went on: “Hux has obtained a block of VIP tickets which he will distribute on behalf of the Philharmonic’s latest and greatest Artist in Residence. If anything goes wrong, the backup plan will be to take them out individually with the Knights of Ren.” Another hacking cough.

“That won’t be a problem for you?” Snoke asked sharply.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Kylo bit off, “it will be a pleasure to rid myself of my _true_ enemies…once and for all.” There was no lie in his statement.

His answer seemed to satisfy Snoke, who replied, “ _Gooood_. And I don’t want any _loose ends_ , do you understand me?”

_Rey_.

“Yes, Master. I know what I have to do,” Kylo said for the second time that morning. His voice rang with conviction, and Snoke hung up.

Kylo’s hands were shaking.

 

Nobody knew where Snoke came from, but it was rumored he quietly came into power after the collapse of the Soviet Union, taking many of Palpatine’s followers under his wing, including Anakin Skywalker.

With Skywalker’s assistance, Snoke eventually formed a mafia offshoot called the First Order. By the time Kylo had started training, the First Order had become the most powerful faction out of the two-hundred or so subgroups that operated within the Bratva.

Kylo thought about becoming Snoke’s heir and everything that would have entailed. While the Palpatine school had been functioning until recently, Snoke had not trained operatives there since The Resistance had started putting the First Order’s type of _business_ into the world’s spotlight. Just last year, Snoke had decided to close the school and work from the shadows as a retired “philanthropist.”

Kylo had always been fine with the idea of taking over the First Order’s leadership. As leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren would have been _untouchable_ and extremely influential. The thought of reinstating anything like the training regime Kylo had been subjected to had always vaguely sickened him, but if he was in charge, he would definitely need to recruit new lieutenants. He had always planned on promoting the current Knights of Ren.

Phasma and Hux, while not Knights of Ren, held similar positions as Kylo did within the First Order. They operated as separate entities who answered only to Snoke. Occasionally, they worked together out of necessity.

Kylo thought about how he would handle Phasma and Hux if he were to dismantle the First Order. Phasma tended to have a sadistic side but _might_ be convinced to retire quietly. She was practical and materialistic, and lately…Kylo had been sensing some weird vibes from her…but Hux was a total sociopath.

Kylo had always sensed a bit of jealousy coming from Hux, who, while extremely effective at his job had never received the acclaim Kylo had: Hux had no talent for music and had joined the First Order through a family connection.

Kylo had never fully considered how effectively Snoke had pitted them against each other until now.

Even when Kylo had shown he had some limits over the kind of brutality he was willing to commit, he never realized before how Hux might have pitched himself further down that path to prove himself to Snoke: Even if certain lines might have blurred over the years, Kylo usually left the grislier aspects of torture to Hux or Phasma. He did not enjoy it as they seemed to, he merely viewed it as a means to an end.

Kylo knew Hux would turn on him in an instant if he believed Kylo to be weak; therefore, he always wore the mask of a cold-blooded killer, especially around Hux.

However. All of his prior plans for the First Order were beyond pointless if he was now going to do what needed to be done. And time was marching on…the concert season was half over.

Kylo had never felt so poignantly the value of every grain of sand in the hourglass of his life. 

Nor had he ever been so tempted to simply kidnap Rey and run for their lives... But he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try to help his mother…and he knew Rey would always be hunted if he didn’t wipe out the First Order from the top down.

 

 

After that night, the _piano_ night, Rey had noticed a difference in Ben. He was no longer angry and frustrated. He was definitely more serious. Moody. At first, she thought it was because of opening night nerves.

But after the spectacularly successful concert, his mood seemed to darken even more. It was as if the light in his eyes was obscured by some invisible shadow…something ominous.

He made love to her every night as if it were the last time. As if he were saying goodbye.

She couldn’t pinpoint how or why she felt this, but she knew it was true.

Something was wrong.

They were halfway through the season, and it had been wildly successful so far. The entire orchestra had been working very hard, and every person in the orchestra was infuriatingly close-lipped about Ben’s special composition that would debut at the second to last concert. How he was getting them all to keep his secret was amazing and frustrating - everyone had an air of friendly conspiration about them these days…but Rey was still worried about the change in Ben’s personality.

They had been spending more nights at his suite at the hotel, presumably, so he could access the piano for work. They were there tonight, and Rey was listening to him play.

Ben was playing Beethoven’s _Silence_. While gorgeous, it was incredibly sad. He was playing very slowly, every note dripping sorrow like a slowly falling teardrop.

Rey couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Ben.”

He stopped instantly. She never interrupted him when he played.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

“Ben. Something’s wrong,” she intoned firmly. “You are upset about something. You have been for weeks. What is going on?”

Kylo couldn’t rally himself to put her off any longer. At the very least, she needed to know about her parents and how she’d come to live in New York. When he was gone, there would be nobody else to tell her.

As far as he knew, not even Luke or his mother knew how Rey had come to be at Eternal Hope all those years ago. And she might still be holding out hope she had relatives out there and try to find them someday…it would be like torture for her.

The idea of giving her one more thing to hate him for after he was gone was too much.

 

The guilty, beseeching look in his eyes was unmistakable and Rey felt her heart stop for just a moment. Something was desperately wrong. _What?_

“Tell me,” she sighed, holding her hand out to him.

“I. I don’t even know how.” He ran a hand through his hair, a sure indication he was upset.

She lowered her hand, feeling truly afraid, now. “Ben? What is going on? Is it – is it about the _Hammer_?”

That was the only thing she could think of that would get him this … emotional.

“What? No!” He looked surprised at the mention of the Strad. “No. That Strad is yours.”

Rey felt relief and then even more anxiety. What could possibly be more upsetting than that?

“Rey. I – need to tell you something I did. A long time ago. My intentions were good, but now…”

“Just tell me. My God, Ben. What?”

He took a deep breath and caught her worried eyes with his haunted ones.

“I – it was me who had you moved to New York from that orphanage in London,” he said finally.

Rey blinked and shook her head. “What? How? How – “

“After I moved to Russia, I got a – scholarship. I hired someone to find you. I didn’t know anything about your family or history or anything. I just – you were always running wild. In London. And you said your parents were dead. You never looked very well-taken-care-of. I wanted to try to help somehow.”

He gave Rey a minute to process the implication of what he’d told her. Sure enough, she got there quickly.

“So. I don’t have an American relative? Who died and sent the money to have me moved?”

“No,” He looked like he was going to throw up. “You’re an orphan. Your parents were…nobodies.”

“So. Okay. And you didn’t tell me. All these months? Or back _then_? _Why?_ ” Tears were forming in her eyes and she hated herself for it… “I don’t understand. Explain it to me.” Her voice was shaking.

“Rey. Sweetheart,” he pleaded, moving as if to get up and come to her.

“Don’t call me that right now. I’m. So -.” Rey wiped a streak of tears from her face and held up her hand.

“Ben. Just explain it to me.”

 

There was no way he could tell her why he’d kept that information to himself. Years ago, because he was in too deep with the First Order. And then because he was too selfish…that first night they reunited.

He kept his mouth shut, watching her.

“Oh, my god, Ben. Did _Luke_ know? Who knew about this?” Rey looked horrified. Devastated. “Has everyone been lying to me this whole time?” She stared at him accusingly.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Nobody knew except me and my dad and a friend of Dad’s who helped.”

“Han Solo knew this whole time?” Rey's voice broke.

“What we did. It – I don’t think it was…I don't know if ... it was totally _legal_ ,” he confessed in a whisper. “I just had to get you out of there. That orphanage had a bad reputation, Rey.”

That statement seemed to halt Rey in her tracks. She sat there for a long time, drawing in shaky breaths.

“So you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d be mad? About the legality of my being in the US?”

Kylo’s jaw clenched. He knew the paperwork they’d had forged had been ironclad. As far as anyone would ever know, Rey was an American citizen.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be mad at me for… redirecting the course of your whole life,” he said, coming as close to the truth as he could. He'd done much worse than redirect her life. He'd put her in so much danger.

It was really unforgivable. 

Rey covered her face with her hands and started sobbing as if her heart was broken.

He felt dread sink into him. If this was her reaction to the mildest of his infractions against her…

…then she held out her hand to him, motioning him to her.

He jumped up from his seat and knelt in front of her. If she was going to slap him or claw his eyes out, he would let her. He was so beyond guilty. This was just the tip of the iceberg.

She threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh! Ben! Thank you. Thank you for getting me out of that horrible place. Thank you," she cried and Ben felt disgusted with himself even as he smoothed her hair with his hand and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, so much,” she sobbed into his chest.

He hugged her tight as her words wrapped around his heart… _like barbed wire._

She had no idea what he was doing to her. And she was fucking _thanking_ him. Like he was a goddamn hero.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he murmured into her hair.

_I love you, too, Rey. I will forever._

_Not long now._

_I wish..._

But wishing was the ultimate in foolishness, Kylo knew. If everything went according to plan, he had only weeks to live...

And the next part of his plan was the most dangerous yet.

He was going to have to bring in some help. To _fully_ trust someone else. Something he hadn’t done for a very, very long time. _If ever._

He just hoped his instincts were right.


	28. Bach Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo pulls in some help.

The day after he told Rey about her parents, Ren went to work feeling nervous about the next part of his plan.

Everyone was in an exceptionally good mood that morning. The orchestra had never played so well as they had over the past few months. Kylo Ren was doing things with music that were both amazing and inspirational. They all knew his presence would be a life-changing, career-altering experience.

They had long since learned that his mercurial temperament was simply part of the package. The man was a genius, and exceptions had to be made for personal quirks.

They were working on the Mendelsohn Concerto, and Rey was playing beautifully. Everyone in the orchestra was also incredibly inspired by their Concertmaster.

The sheer talent in the room fed every person’s desire to play at their very best.

Midway through the morning, Ren halted the practice and told everyone to take a break. He gave them all a rare smile, which added to the general feeling of positivity in the air.

He was good about making sure they rested frequently during long rehearsal days, another reason why they respected him. He understood what it took to put out decent music – if they were too exhausted from working too hard, they would burn out.

Ren evaluated the scene at a glance, looking for the right moment to make his move. Rey had turned to her stand partner and was having an animated discussion about bowing through the concerto. Everyone was disbursing for a well-deserved break…

_Now…Just get this over with._

As the group moved to set down their instruments and stand and chat, Ren turned to Phasma and said nonchalantly, “Hey, Phas. Can I see you in my office real quick?” His tone implied he wanted to talk about work. _First Order work_.

“Sure,” she replied coolly. “Give me a sec.”

He slipped out of the practice room and strode quickly to his office.

When she walked through the door, he was seated behind his desk. He didn’t bother to hide the gun he had trained on her.

“Lock the door.”

The icy fury radiating from Phasma was tangible. She kept her eyes trained on him as she flicked the lock on the door with deliberate agitation.

“Sit down.”

“You. _Mother. Fucker_. Pulling a gun on me?” Ren could tell Phasma was beyond incensed even if her tone of voice was the same, unflappable one she used all the time.

“Phas. Sit. Please.” Ren tried to tone down his nervousness. This was beyond risky. If he failed, if his instincts had been wrong…this would be a bloodbath.

He had no doubt she could try to disarm him and might very well succeed. _And when they eventually found the bloodied corpses of the New York Philharmonic’s chief Conductor and First Cello locked in an office at Lincoln Center…well, that would be beyond disastrous…_

“I need your help,” Ren said baldly.

“Pointing a fucking gun at me is not a great way to ask,” Phasma stated acidly as she sat down. Every line of her body looked relaxed. Ren knew she could spring on him at any minute… because he was holding himself exactly the same way.

_She probably has at least two knives on her right now. If she pulls one on me, I’ll have to shoot her._

The gun trained on her did not waver.

_Don’t let me be wrong about this,_ he prayed.

“I’m going to take down the First Order. I need you to help me level the playing field.”

“ _Take down the First Order?_ That’s an interesting thing for Snoke’s precious _apprentice_ to say. Why?” Phasma’s reaction was one of mild curiosity. _Damn, she’s difficult to read_.

“You _know_ why,” Ren said quietly. “I’m not killing her, Phasma. I won’t do it.”

Phasma shook her head but didn’t seem surprised. “This is un-fucking-believable. You’ve finally grown a conscience? You’re ready to die for this?”

“Something like that,” Ren agreed. “She’s innocent. So were we...once. We were just kids when we got dragged into all of it, Phas...”

“We’re not kids now, though, are we?” she fixed him with a fathomless icy stare. “It’s pretty late in the game to try to get out, you know?”

“There’s no way out, Phas. There will _never_ be a way out. Not for me. Maybe not for you. Not as long as Snoke is alive – you know he can trigger _Order 66_ at any time,” Ren pressed on. “Will you help me?”

“Why are you asking _me_ for help, Ren? Why would you _trust_ me?” Phasma finally asked him.

“We’ve known each other far too long for you to play dumb, now,” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. “ _Why don't you tell me why I should trust you, Phasma?_ ”

_Please be right about her. Please be right._

Phasma watched him for an eternity before she finally answered him.

When she was done talking, he felt a surge of relief so strong it made his eyes water.

He lowered the gun.

He was right to trust her: He knew Phasma would help him or die trying.

Her alliance gave him the tiniest tingle of hope. Not for himself. But for those he loved.

He told her his plan. All of it.

 

It had been over a week since Kylo told Rey about her parents. They were at the bar again, another Monday Night meeting. Strangely, Kylo had grown to look forward to the routine gatherings. 

Kylo recognized the same dark-haired woman who had been watching him the last few times he'd been there. He knew now she was one of Hux’s spies – Hux had been watching him almost from the beginning, according to Phasma.

He excused himself to the men’s room and pulled out his phone to call Snoke. After the past week, he was slightly more relaxed. But he still wasn’t taking any chances. His plan needed to be bulletproof.

“What?” Snoke rasped into the phone.

“I’m inviting Skywalker to guest conduct the first half of the finale,” Kylo told him. “It will be a surefire way to get everyone there; then, he can sit as a guest of honor with the others. We can end it in one shot.”

Snoke was quiet on his end for a full minute before replying, “That would certainly make it easier to rid ourselves of loose ends with less suspicion…do you think he will do it?”

“I think so,” Kylo kept his voice steely-calm. _Good._ _Snoke sounds intrigued_.

“Excellent. _Do it_.” Snoke hung up on him.

Kylo thought about the coded note he’d delivered through Lor San Tekka weeks ago…

_Mother, Danger. Been in First Order since I left family. FO watching you and Luke. Best way was for Dad deliver this. Snoke plans a mass killing end of spring finale before UN Summit. Wants you and diplomats dead. Cancel and Snoke will assassinate everyone separately. Only one chance to eliminate FO for good. Have a plan. Keep this close. Please. Play along. Will contact you or Luke soon. Sorry not enough. Love, Ben_

He had memorized Luke’s number from Rey’s phone. Now he just had to call it.

 

The whole next week at work, Rey was having trouble concentrating.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what her life might have been if she’d stayed in London at Plutt’s. She still had trouble believing it was Ben who had gotten her out all those years ago.

When he first told her what he’d done, she’d been upset. She had always held a tiny hope that more relatives might pop up and find her…especially…maybe if she became a famous musician. It was stupid, but there it was: She had always hoped to find more of her family. Ben’s words had finished off that hope and forced her to acknowledge her lonely reality.

Now Ben was her only anchor. Without each other, they were essentially alone in the world. And as the weeks went on, Rey found herself falling more in love with him than she would ever have thought possible. He was her family. She knew, too, he felt the same, although he still hadn’t come right out and told her so…

She couldn’t help herself. She was starting to dream and hope of a life with him. A real future. Maybe a family of their own someday. But, she sensed it was important to give him time and let him bring it up when he was ready. She could be patient. She loved him with her whole heart.

But knowing she had no one but Ben only highlighted Ben’s fractured relationship with his own family. He had always steadfastly refused to discuss his parents or his uncle with her…

Which is why it was such a shock when he announced to the group at large that morning Luke Skywalker would be making a guest appearance at the Spring Finale and would be stopping by later that afternoon for rehearsal.

The group whispered excitedly as they heard the news, but Rey was frozen in shock. Why would Ben invite his _uncle_ to conduct at such an important concert? Ben _hated_ Luke. Rey was still pissed at him for keeping Ben’s letters from her all those years ago.

_So why?_

Ben was evading her gaze all morning and doing a very good job of avoiding her altogether; She didn’t have a chance to ask him, but she planned to.

 

 

That afternoon Luke Skywalker walked into the middle of rehearsal and stood quietly by the door, watching everyone.

When he entered the room, every person in the room felt his presence even though they continued to play under Kylo’s direction.

Kylo continued conducting through the end of the score, but he, too, felt his uncle standing just out of sight.

At the end, every eye turned to see Luke’s reaction and they were all gratified to see him smile widely.

“Sorry for the intrusion, everyone, but I’m glad I got to hear that. Amazing!” Luke strode over to Kylo and shook his hand. He might have been gripping it just a bit too hard, but Kylo understood.

“Maestro,” Luke acknowledged his nephew. “I’m honored by your invitation.”

“Maestro,” Kylo returned the acknowledgment, then turned to the orchestra. “Everyone, pick up at the Adagio, and our Concertmaster can lead you through it while I take just a moment, okay?”

Rey stood automatically to lead the group through rehearsal, but her eyes were shooting daggers at both Luke and Kylo.

Kylo knew she’d be pissed and confused about this. But he needed Luke involved to keep her safe. Her ire was something he would just have to risk.

_Handle that later._

He turned back to Luke, “Coffee in my office? We have a lot to discuss…”

Luke nodded and followed him out of the room.

 

The minute they were alone in Kylo’s office, Luke dropped all pretense of friendly guest and went straight for the jugular.

“Do you have any idea what kind of hell you’ve put us through, Ben?” Luke’s eyes flashed blue fire. His voice was shaking with unspent anger.

Kylo found himself on the defensive, not a position he’d been hoping for during this initial confrontation.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hissed. “I know _exactly_ how much damage I’ve caused. It doesn’t change the fact I’m trying to …”

“Your parents are worried _sick_ about you. _I’m_ worried sick,” Luke went on relentlessly.

Those words made Kylo angry. They should be furious with him, not _worried_ about him. They should be afraid for their lives over the danger he’d put them all in.

Kylo poured his uncle and himself a cup of coffee from the grubby coffeepot on the file cabinet. It had been sitting there all day, but it was good to have something to do with his hands.

“I’m glad you got my message,” Kylo said bitingly as he handed Luke a paper cup of bitter coffee. “Did you see that part about how _I’m sorry_?” He couldn't keep the belligerence from his voice.

“Yeah, I saw it.” Luke still looked a little hostile but was calming down. “Why don’t you tell me why you need my help before someone comes in here?”

Kylo swallowed. He felt like he was at confession. And the priest wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

“It all started back in London. Before that, even…”

It probably only took fifteen minutes or so for Kylo to tell his uncle everything. As he talked, he felt as if a lifetime of poison were being drawn from him. He told Luke about how Snoke had been contacting him since he was very young, about meeting Rey in London, about taking his grandfather’s ashes before he left. Everything.

When he mentioned it was him who had Rey moved to New York, Luke looked genuinely surprised.

As Kylo suspected, his dad had never spoken of it to anyone.

He told Luke about the letters he’d sent to Rey and then about how he’d basically been brainwashed and joined the First Order within his first year of living in Russia. He didn’t go into too much detail, but Luke seemed to understand some of the ugliness Kylo had gone through.

He told Luke that when he came back to New York for the _Hammer_ , he’d already been planning on being here for the other job Snoke had planned.

“So, you’re not going after the _Hammer_?” Luke asked quietly.

“As far as I’m concerned, it belongs to Rey. And…I might not have much time, Uncle Luke. I – I have a plan. Which is why I need your help.”

“What’s your plan?” Luke asked quietly.

“I’m putting a stop to this while I can. This is the only time we will know for sure exactly where the main players will be, and they won’t be suspicious or know I'm trying to take them out until it’s too late,” Kylo felt relieved that Luke was listening intently.

“Snoke said they will frame it as a terrorist attack to occur right after the concert ends; that’s when the crowd will be at its worst, security-wise. Lots of cameras and press coverage, probably. If it were me,” he looked guiltily at his uncle, but Luke showed no sign of judgment in his gaze, “If it were me, I’d use car bombs or rig the building or both.”

“Why can’t we cancel the concert?” Luke asked, logically if not naively.

“We can’t cancel now, or Snoke will just go with Plan B and just have everyone assassinated individually. It’s messier. Harder to get away with. But he’ll do it and then he’ll go underground, and we won’t get another opportunity to eliminate the First Order,” Kylo explained.

Luke was nodding.

“This is the only time we will know where all of the players will be and they won’t see us coming. If I don’t stop him…any no-shows and he’ll execute them later. Including mother…” Kylo gulped. “And the First Order has spies all the way to the top. Any word to the wrong people – CIA, FBI, Interpol – and you’re all dead. That includes you and Rey for good measure.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow at him in question. “Why us?”

“Because you are both connected to me…my past…anyone connected to me or the family will be slaughtered, Uncle Luke.” Kylo couldn’t emphasize that enough.

“Okay,” Luke said, “But why do you need me there at the finale, Ben?”

“Because. I’ll need you to buy me some time and get Rey to safety, and Mother…if. If I fail.”

“Fail at what?” Luke’s eyes bored into his.

“Exterminating Snoke and the rest of them. I’m the only one who knows how to get to him. It has to be me,” Kylo uttered. “And I need to do it right before that final concert. Before Snoke knows anything is wrong and can tip off anyone back here.”

His unspoken words hung between them.

_And because_ _I’m not likely to make it back._


	29. Verdi Messa de Requiem: Dies Irae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has several eye-opening realizations.

He bent forward to kiss her and Rey had that melting sensation again. She put her arms on his shoulders, feeling the muscles there, warm and hard, just like the rest of him.

He didn’t lie on top of her, he just braced himself over her and swept his tongue into her mouth as if he owned it. Rey threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him back for all she was worth. He smelled so good.

He adjusted himself so he was propped on one side, using one hand to stroke from her jaw down to the zipper of her dress. He kissed her breathless as he slowly dragged the zipper down.

“ _Mmmmmh_ ,” he sighed into her neck, licking the soft skin under her jaw.

“Oh!” Rey felt shivers wrack her body at the sensation. He did it again and tugged the dress open and down, exposing her breasts and exhaling at the sight.

She arched her back invitingly, and he took the hint, leaning in to gently suck a rosy peak into his mouth.

Rey felt a surge of desire so strong she stopped breathing. The sight and feel of those full red lips on her was – so good. His eyes smoldered into hers as he wrapped his lips around the tip of her other breast and Rey almost passed out.

“ _Mmmmmh_ ,” he moaned again, telling her exactly how delectable he found her…when he gave her nipple a tug with his teeth and licked it, Rey groaned and arched her back.

“This is all I’ve been thinking about…all day…for ages,” he confessed. “Just you.”

He moved up to kiss her again and pressed his chest into hers. _Ohhhh, he feels so amazing_. She wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him into her and rubbed her chest against his, seeking friction.

His eyes were glittering with lust as he kissed a path from her collarbone to her navel, tugging the dress down over her hips.

She watched his expression. He was so beautiful. She loved him so much.

“Rey. I’m going to get you _so_ wet tonight, okay?” he murmured. “I … just want this time to last forever.”

He pushed her knees down into the bed. He knelt on the floor in front of the bed and dragged her hips to his face, giving her a look of molten yearning before putting his open mouth between her legs.

Rey was sure now she was going to die at the feeling of his lips and tongue doing what they were doing to her.

She was pretty much incoherent at that point.

All she could do was arch her hips into his face and hope he’d understand that meant _fuck, yes._

His hot breath and tongue softly caressed her flesh and his nose bumped in a gentle rhythm, right into her clit. She felt another surge of wetness and he slowly lapped it up. He gave her clit a few tender sucks.

Her thighs were quivering from anticipation and she was gasping for air.

He pushed a large finger into her, watching her as her mouth gaped open and she cried out a soft, “Oh, yes!”

He slid a second finger in and she just about came.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart. That’s just my fingers. Imagine what my cock is going to feel like,” Ben said, flexing his long fingers into her g-spot, still looking at her.

The thought of him sliding into her was about more than she could handle. Heat poured into her belly and she felt herself clench down on him at his words.

“Goddamn, you feel amazing. Did you know that?” he muttered, putting his mouth on her again as he moved his fingers in agonizingly slow strokes.

“Ben, please, I-” Rey was having trouble forming words or thoughts.

He seemed to understand and crawled back over her, hovering. He kissed her again, softly, then stood up and stripped of his pants.

Rey spread her legs and held out her hands and Ben moved to her like iron to a magnet. He braced himself over her and kissed the side of her neck as she arched her hips into him.

He whispered into her neck, telling her all the things he was going to do to her. She felt him move into the soft wet folds between her legs and push oh-so-slowly into her.

He worked his way in with gentle nudges. It was bliss and torture at the same time. Rey couldn’t stop herself from looking down and watching as his hips deliberately flexed into hers.

The sensation of being stretched and taken was too much and she felt herself clench around him.

“Oh, Rey,” Ben uttered, a look of total concentration on his face, “You feel ... soooo good.”

She pushed her fingers into his hair, gasping by now at the way he was moving inexorably into her. But he wasn’t going near fast enough. She wanted more.

 

He sensed her urgency and sank into her all the way. _I love you, Rey._

Rey cried out, and he hissed at the sensation. He plunged into her again, faster this time. The friction was intense.

“Yes,” she moaned, “Again!”

Ben did it again and she clenched down on him causing him to bite out a sharp _Fuck!_

She gripped him around the back and pulled him in with her legs.

“You want more?” he asked urgently. _You're so beautiful._

“Yes!” she urged him. He moved faster, and she groaned in pleasure.

“Like this?” he asked, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

“Yes! Ben, more!”

“Okay,” he grunted, giving her a good firm thrust.

She grabbed his face in either hand and caught his eyes.

“Ben. Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow. Okay?” Rey glared at him to make sure he understood.

_There won’t be a tomorrow, Rey._

“Okay,” he said.

He realized he would do anything she asked. _Anything._

And, it was as if he’d flipped a switch.

He slid out and slammed home with a ragged groan.

“How’s that?” he growled, doing it again.

She gasped, “Yessssss.” And that was all the encouragement he needed.

“All I can think about,” he grunted, “is _this_.” He gave her an especially rough thrust. “For _months_. Right here.” _It's all I'll think about for the rest of my life._

“Oh. My. God,” she groaned.

He did it again.

“More,” and then, “YES.”

His eyes lit up and he bit his bottom lip as he switched to a calculated stroke of his hips that was surely going to kill them both.

_One last time, that's all I have. Make it count._

“Rey, I can’t believe how good you feel,” he ground out, not stopping his movements. “I can feel every bit of you from the inside.” 

“Ben!”

“You’re so hot, sweetheart,” he breathed.

He increased the pace by a fraction.

“I can feel you squeezing me...” 

“Yes, oohhh! Don’t stop!” Her hips were rocking back and forth in earnest now.

“I’m gonna come so hard, Rey...”

“Yes, yes, yes, -”

His eyes flickered over her face, absorbing every expression, every detail, down to the last bead of sweat.

“Don’t. Stop,” she panted.

“I don’t plan to,” he pronounced. “ _Ever_.” _I'll never stop loving you._

It was that slide and bump, then slow glide out, repeated over and over, that got them in the end. The friction was just too much. That and the burning look in her eyes.

She definitely knew how to use those hips. And the sounds she was making were sinful.

He hung his dark head in the crook of her neck and he could feel everything…her soft, silky hair, her sweaty forehead, the heat of her breath, the softness of her lips…

He felt her seizing up around him. She was getting close and he didn’t want to stop this incredible feeling just yet.

“Oh, no. Don’t you hold back on me now, Rey,” he ordered.

The slide of his chest against hers. His taut abdomen pushing into hers. The hairs at his groin scraping against her soft inner thighs…

“I can tell you’re close, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth, not stopping. “Come with me. _Please_.”

 

**Later...**

Kylo had to steel himself after making love to her one last time. It was more than he ever could have hoped for, those precious minutes with her. Those few grains of time.

So much more than he deserved.

His last moments as Ben Solo, really.

Because tonight, if he had any hope of carrying through with his plans, he could only be one thing: _Kylo Ren_.

He was wearing slacks and a sweater, his tux was tucked into a garment bag and slung over his shoulder. He would throw it on at Lincoln Center. He didn't want to be alone in this suite with all of his memories of her.

Rey had gone back to her apartment to get ready with Phasma – he had heaped one more little lie on the mountain of lies he’d already told her and said he needed a bit of time for final preparations for tonight.

Maybe that hadn’t been such a lie.

Tonight, he would debut his _Concerto_. And if all went according to plan, this would all be over in less than a week.

Kylo didn’t look back as he left the suite for the last time.

 

When Rey stepped out of the taxi with the _Hammer_ in its case, she felt so incredibly blessed. Tonight, she would be playing the Mendelsohn _Violin Concerto_ and then. Then, she would finally get to hear Ben’s _Concerto_.

After this afternoon with him, she knew they were going to be together forever. She _knew_ he loved her. He hadn’t said it, yet, but that was not important. She _knew_ it.

After a lifetime of feeling out of place, unwanted, and unseen, Rey finally knew with all her heart that she had found more than just love.

Ben was her soulmate. They _belonged_.

She and Phasma were sharing a cab, and she had the taxi pull up to the back entrance in the alley. Given the value of both of their instruments, it was best to get inside with as little fuss as possible. Phasma got out on the other side of the cab and got her cello case out of the trunk.

They were _really_ early.

Rey heard the slam of another car door. Ben exited a cab just down the alley. She lifted a hand to wave at him. But he didn’t wave back.

A dark-haired woman and another man were approaching him. They had been in the alley, too, smoking and talking.

Ben was talking to the couple. _Did he know them?_

Rey stopped, waiting for him to finish his conversation as the cab pulled away.

Phasma, following directly behind, stopped too. Before she could blink, Phasma had grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the entrance, even as Ben stepped forward to meet the two who had apparently been waiting for him.

“What’s going on?” Rey asked, curiously.

And that’s when things got _strange_. The two strangers were squaring off into what looked like some kind of attack formation against…Ben?

One of them spoke in a language that sounded like Russian, and Ben _responded_. Fluently.

_Ben can speak Russian._

_Why does everyone sound so angry?_

Rey’s heart dropped into her stomach as she watched Ben slowly toss his garment bag to the side. “Ben?” she called out softly. Fear was beginning to curl around her with ice-cold tentacles.

“Get her out of here,” Ben said over his shoulder. _He’s talking to Phasma._

They were the only people around.

Why would Ben tell Phasma to take her away? Phasma remained still, holding tightly to Rey’s arm. “Don’t say a word. Don’t distract him,” Phasma warned in a voice of carbon-steel.

But Rey couldn’t speak. Her mind was still processing. He was squaring up for a fight? He was going to fight these guys?

_Ben doesn’t fight. Ben plays piano. He is a concert pianist, chamber musician, and chief Conductor at the New York Philharmonic._

Those two looked…deadly. They were going to tear him to pieces. How did those guys know Ben? Why were they going to attack him?

Actually. Ben looked pretty lethal himself. Something about the line of his shoulders or the way his eyes turned obsidian and showed no emotion whatsoever.

He looked … _scary_.

Rey gasped as she noticed a wicked looking blade appear in Ben’s hand as if conjured from thin air. Where did he get – _how_?

Ben was going to _fight_ them. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. He spoke Russian. He knew those two.

Her heart began to thud in sickeningly slow beats.

 

Ren saw them waiting for him and his first thought was Rey. _Get her out of here_ , he had told Phasma. But Phasma was staying put, dammit.

The woman waiting for him had looked vaguely familiar. He did not recognize her partner…

And then it struck him. The dark-haired woman from the bar was Hux's spy...they were  _Uralmash hitmen._

It _had_ to be...

Probably the last big hitters they had, too, since Kylo, Phasma, and Hux had systematically rooted them out and killed them off like rodents months ago.

_So, why are these two still alive? Phasma said they’d gotten them all._

Someone must have alerted them he would be here… _Who?_ Despite himself, Ren still trusted Phasma. That meant it could only be one other person. _Hux_. Hux was making a move.

Ren’s eyes met Phasma’s and she gave him a short nod. He did not – could not – look at Rey.

He turned his attention back to the couple approaching him.

The man talked first. So, he would die first, Ren decided. “You are a dead man, Ren. After I slice you open and leave you in this alley … we’re going to take care of your little _slut._ You can watch us do it while you bleed out. I think we’ll start with her fingers first…” He made a chomping motion with his teeth.

The woman remained silent but watchful. However, her eyes were shooting poisoned darts at him.

Ren appeared calm, even though the man’s words made him want to bellow with rage.

It was over almost before it began, Ren moved so quickly. He feinted a lunge at the man, then swept into a low, graceful crouch, swiping at his leg. The man – unsurprised at this maneuver - had twisted to follow him.

As he turned, Ren threw his open palm into the woman's chest, shoving her down before she could swipe her knife at him. The man followed, and Ren shoved his Ka-Bar into his jugular. When he pulled it out, blood spurted everywhere in a slow arc and Kylo heard a muffled sob.

 _Rey_.

His hand was slippery with blood, so Ren tossed his knife to the other hand and he watched the woman jump up, repositioning herself.

She looked startled, but not shaken; she had not been expecting him to take out her partner that easily.

Ren’s hair hung over his eyes and he snarled, “You’re next.”

She attacked silently; she fought with a smaller but no less dangerous blade. Like a fillet knife, it curved into a wicked point and looked extremely sharp. Her other hand held a push dagger, a small t-shaped knife with a leaf-like blade, held in the fist between two fingers.

Ren fucking hated push daggers, especially after being stabbed by one not that long ago.

She went for his face and he ducked in the nick of time, wrapping a hand around her incoming arm and giving it a vicious twist. He heard the snap of a bone breaking and she cried out in fury and pain.

Ren gripped his Ka-Bar and drew it across her neck as smoothly as painting a stroke on canvas.

She dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap.

He heard a muffled scream.

Ren turned and saw Phasma drag a white-faced Rey into the alley entrance of Lincoln Center.  

This was _not_ how he’d planned to tell her about his past.

_Fuck._


	30. Intermission (No music)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endgame begins.

Phasma would keep Rey inside the building until he could take care of the bodies, Ren knew.

Phas had stayed behind to make sure he didn’t need help. Phas wanted this over as much as he did. Perhaps even more, knowing what she’d told him after he’d asked for her help all those weeks ago…Phas would explain to Rey, he hoped.

It was too late now to try to backtrack. Rey had seen what she’d seen. He would never forget the look in her eyes.

She’d looked at him like he was…a monster. And she hadn’t been wrong.

Nevertheless, if he wanted Rey to stay alive, he would somehow have to convince her to get onstage and play her ass off. If Snoke suspected anything was wrong, he would have them all hunted down and executed.

Ren clenched his jaw and dragged a body to a nearby dumpster.

 

By the time he got into the back rooms of Lincoln Center, he was running late. Phasma and Rey were locked in the dressing room when he knocked on the door.

He still couldn’t look at Rey. _Coward_.

Phasma opened the door and pulled him inside.

“Hux is moving in. Why now?” He asked Phasma as he began stripping out of his dirty, bloody sweater and t-shirt.

“It’s brilliant timing,” Phasma said, bundling up Ren’s clothes and shoving them into a trash bin. “Snoke’s eyes are totally focused on the UN job. I’m sure Hux is thinking of a takeover while Snoke is distracted; I wouldn’t put it past him to have the Knights on his side…There’s been some…dissatisfaction among them.”

“That information would have been useful a few weeks ago, Phasma,” Ren said sharply. _Fuck. I need to leave the second this concert is over._

“I just found out right before we got here,” she glared back at him.

“Who does he have? _That we know of?_ ” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice, although he knew it wasn’t her fault.

“Other than a handful of his spies? Nobody in New York. The Knights of Ren are still in Russia,” Phasma said, unzipping his garment bag and pulling out his tux.

Ren went to the vanity, where there was a small sink. He started scrubbing. _There will never be enough soap and water to get all the sin off these hands._

“Are you sure?” Ren barked at her, kicking off his shoes as he rinsed meticulously.

“Yes. I’m keeping track of them,” Phasma stated efficiently. “And Snoke wants everyone who can be out of New York _out_ – less suspicious that way.” Phasma took his shoes from the floor and started rinsing the blood off them while Ren dried his hands.

_So if Hux makes a move and gets to Snoke first, then Order 66 will be in play and death is only a ten-hour plane ride away._

He ran his fingers through his hair checking for blood. If there was any on his white linen shirt when he went onstage…that would be very bad.

He had to look put together tonight. Cameras would be all over him. 

He finally glanced at Rey. She was sitting quietly in a chair, and she looked like she was in shock. _She looks so beautiful…and…broken._

He hung his head over the sink and ran some water through his hair. Phasma handed him a clean towel.

“You’re still planning on…?” Phasma asked him, not wanting to say too much in front of Rey. Her eyes met Ren’s.

He scrubbed the towel over his hair and ran his fingers through it, slicking it down as best he could.

“Yes,” he confirmed, glancing at his watch. “We have to be onstage in seven minutes.”

He took his fresh shirt from Phasma and threw it on, then his dress pants.

Rey was sitting there quietly. Her face was deathly pale.

“Rey?” Ren finally had to address her, “Did Phasma explain what’s been going on?” _After everything I’ve done. After everything she just saw, I don’t have the right to call her “sweetheart” anymore._

“She said I have to play,” Rey said robotically. “She said if I don’t go onstage tonight, then some bad people are going to … kill me and Leia and …”

“We are being watched,” Ren confirmed as gently as he could, while still inflecting the utmost seriousness into his voice. “Every move. But if you think you can’t do it, I will figure something out and we’ll get you out of here.” His eyes met Phasma’s in confirmation.

“But what about Leia? And Luke? And everyone else?” Rey asked harshly.

He knelt down in front of her. He didn’t take her hands. He didn’t get to touch her now. Ever again.

“Rey, at this point I don’t care about anything other than keeping you alive."

He looked into her eyes and saw … _ah, she fucking hates me._

“Two minutes,” Phasma said. “And we are pushing it. We need to get out there.”

“Rey. Come back in here at Intermission. Please. I’ll explain everything. You deserve to know the truth, and…” He did his best to hold it together, but it was so hard to see that look in her eyes.

“Yes,” Rey said wrathfully, “I do deserve the truth. _Kylo_.”

She stood and exited the dressing room without looking back.

 

Going onstage at this point was going to be easy, compared to standing in that alley watching him murder two people with a knife, Rey thought. Or sitting in that dressing room listening while he casually put on a tux and talked about whatever bloody conspiracy he was wrapped up in.

She stood just backstage waiting for him to go on first. The rest of the orchestra was already seated.

At 7:30 on the dot, he walked out of the dressing room and past her onto the stage. He looked so handsome, Rey’s heart seized up a bit. She waited until he was at the podium, the rest of the orchestra standing in unison to welcome him to the stage. He turned and gestured to her, and she walked into the lights, holding the _Hammer_.

 

Ren watched her walk onstage and a nervousness unlike anything he’d ever felt slithered through him. She looked…cold. She did not meet his eyes or acknowledge him in any way.

She had never called him _Kylo_ before. Ever.

That parting shot had scooped his heart out as cleanly as if it had been surgically extracted.

Now there was just an empty hole in his chest. He didn’t understand how he was still alive.

_Not for long, now. You knew this would happen._

As she took her position onstage and the orchestra was seated, Ren could only feel one thing: Total emptiness.

There was no breath before the start, there was no connection made or mind-meld or anything from her.

There was nothing.

He lowered the baton and they played.

 

She played because her life and the lives of other people depended on it.

But as she played she could only think of all the mistakes she’d made…and trusting him had been such a catastrophic mistake.

_You’re the best friend I’ve ever had…I had no choice to leave you, you know?_

_You like the good stuff. The dark stuff…all the bad boys…_

_You’re an orphan. Your parents were…nobodies._

_I was getting in with some very bad people…It’s not like I’d had anything to lose in New York._

_I burned all connections to my old life to the ground…and eventually, I gave up…_  

She could have prevented this terrible pain from cascading through her. But she had been a trusting fool.

_… he changed his name and moved to Russia._

_Has it occurred to you that Ben – Kylo – might be lying to you?_

_Has it occurred to you that he might be trying to manipulate you?_

_He knows exactly how to play you, do you see?_

_He’s far too possessive…domineering._

_I know exactly how selfish he can be._

_He’s a bad person._

She should have seen it from the beginning. All the way back to the beginning when he left her in London.

_He knows exactly how to play you, do you see?_

_I think we have a communication problem._

_I want you to tell me the truth._

_Confused? Can’t figure out how we got here? You know the truth. You know why._

_Oh, Rey. I am going to make you so sorry._

Rey played the Concerto perfectly. Technically perfect. But nobody would receive more than that from her tonight.

_He knows exactly how to play you, do you see?_

_I promise I’ll be nice._

_It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay…_

_I didn’t want you to be mad at me for… redirecting the course of your whole life._

_Oh, Rey. You shouldn’t have let me do that. Now you’re good and trapped._

She’d given enough of herself. To him. From the very beginning.

_He knows exactly how to play you, do you see?_

_Do you see?_

She could see.

 

After the first half of the concert ended, Ren stuck to her side like glue. She looked like she was going to bolt, and if she wasn’t in the audience for the second half, that would definitely tip off the wrong people.

And he needed her to play along for just a little while longer. _Please don’t make me do this the hard way,_ he thought desperately. If she showed any sign of argument or resistance, he wouldn’t have time to calm her down.

Once they were backstage, he took her arm and herded her into the dressing room as inconspicuously as he could.

Her eyes were flashing fire at him.

He had less than twenty minutes to explain _everything_ and he couldn’t afford to use it up fighting her or placating her. Now he knew Hux was making a move, and he would have to leave immediately after the concert. This was all the time he had left.

He needed her to listen and obey, and if he had to use hate and fear to get her to do it, then, by God, those were weapons he knew how to wield. Expertly.

He had been dreading this moment for weeks, no months. _I’m sorry, Rey._

Since that first time he’d held her while she slept, and she’d told him he wasn’t alone.

Since he’d watched her play the _Hammer_ that first time and felt the light hit his soul with all the force of a supernova.

Since he’d fallen in love with her and felt hope and happiness and belonging creep into him for the first time…

But Kylo Ren was not a man destined for happiness or hope. He’d known the endgame all along.

And now his day of reckoning was at hand.

“Rey. I know this is the worst possible time, but I need you to listen,” he said urgently, turning to lock the door as she swept into the room ahead of him.

“Every word you’ve spoken to me since the day we met has been a lie,” she said coldly. “I’m not going to believe anything you say, so why bother with this charade?” _She’s going to fight this._

_Dammit._

His face went blank. Calm and empty. _The hard way, then._

“All right,” he agreed. “I’ve pretty much lied to you since the beginning.”

He moved into the room, using sheer force of will to back her down. _Nineteen minutes._

He was going to have to scare the hell out of her and break her heart. It would be the only way to get her out into the audience for the second half of that concert in time. And if he was leaving right after this...a clean break would be best for her.

As for the finale performance…well, Phasma would have to help with that part…

“Sit. _Down_.” He used his deadliest voice. He knew Rey had just watched him brutally murder two people less than three hours ago. He needed her to _listen_ and if frightening and intimidating her would do the trick, so be it.

She turned white and sat abruptly.

“I am not the person you thought I was,” he said agreeably.

Ren had rehearsed this speech a million times in his head. “I’m so much worse…and what you saw a few hours ago in the alley was _nothing_. You don’t know me at all. Or what I am capable of.”

His eyes drilled into hers with utter menace and she swallowed.

“When I moved to Russia, I was trained to be an assassin for a group of mercenaries working for the _Bratva_ known as the First Order. That first night when I met up with you, the night we got shot at, was because of me. A rival faction was trying to take me out and steal the _Hammer_ \- for vengeance.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Why would they want vengeance?”

“Because I garroted an entire family of mobsters, Rey. With piano wires,” he said harshly.

He had to emphasize the violence of his world if he was going to scare her into compliance. By the look on her face, it was working.

He went on, ruthlessly, “Phasma and I were able to convince you to be her roommate so she could help me keep an eye on you. She told you why she’s here? In New York?”

Rey nodded.

“That morning? That morning when I was gone, you remember?” – she nodded again – “I had the men who shot at you tracked down and tortured. With an ice pick. I went in for the last bit of the interrogation. After that, I knew we had to root out the rest of them or they would destroy my plans, so I used you as bait. That week before I started at the Philharmonic, you remember?”

She blinked up at him with watery eyes, and Ren steeled himself to continue, “I followed you around the city that week and killed three men who were tracking you. Because I needed to use you for a bigger job. _This_ job.”

Now she was looking at him like she wished he was dead.

“When I got stabbed, it wasn’t from a mugging,” he kept going. _Don’t stop now._

Rey’s eyes flashed at that. He knew she’d been terrified for him, sick with worry. _Make it a clean break._

“The man who stabbed me was the brother of one of the guys I killed – he stabbed me as I was breaking his neck with my bare hands.”

“How many?” she asked, her eyes wide with shock. “How many people have you…?”

“More than I can count.” _Twelve minutes._ She sucked in a breath at his icy reply and stared at him.

“After I killed those guys, my Master and I decided to use you as bait again. On Saturday night, four days from now, the New York Philharmonic will host a group of very important diplomats, including my mother. The First Order is planning on a mass-assassination on that night and then you are to be … taken out.”

She looked plenty scared, now. _Good._

“Rey. If you act in any way suspicious or upset or balk at performing on Saturday…they will not hesitate to kill you. Viciously. And then, they will go after my mother, my uncle, and everyone I’ve ever known and exterminate them all.”

She sucked in a shaking breath.

“We’ve been watched almost since the very beginning. Since I started at the Philharmonic.” _Nine minutes._

“What?” she gasped.

“Yes.” He squatted down in front of her so he could be at eye level when he spoke the next words.

“You have _no idea_ who the fuck I am. But if you want to live, you’ll do exactly what I tell you.”

He looked her up and down, keeping his face an impassive mask.

“I’m going after them, Rey. And I need you to play along. My master has an insurance plan of sorts – _Order 66_ – and if he doesn’t personally contact his bodyguards every twelve hours, they are to drop everything, finish the last job on the table, and go to ground. You and those diplomats are the last job on the table as of right now.”

“Why are you trying to stop him?” she asked. “Why are you telling _me_ this?”

“So I can finally take over the First Order, my grandfather's birthright. It’s my destiny,” he lied with cruel conviction and a lift of his brow.

“So. It was _all_ a lie?” she asked quietly. “All of it? Even -?”

He knew she was thinking about their most tender, intimate moments together.

“All of it. Now get your ass out into that audience before you get us all killed.” His voice was razor-sharp and fatally cold.

_Four minutes._

Her face froze and she swept out before he could say anything else.

The sound of Rey closing that door was as final as a hammer striking a coffin nail.

He was still crouched on the floor.

_Three minutes._

The stars were surely falling from the sky all at once.

Everything, everything he had was eclipsed by one thought: He loved her endlessly.

And he had nothing. Nothing he could give her that wasn’t twisted and tainted by his wickedness.

His evil.

_I have nothing._

_Two minutes._

He hunched there, alone, staring at the door. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

_I have nothing._

_One minute._

_Nobody’s coming for you, Ben._

_You’re alone._

_So be it._

He stood and pulled two items from the pocket of his jacket. One made a pleasant tinkling sound as he set it on the counter. The other made a quiet rustling, wrapped inside an ash-covered handkerchief as he considered it for the last few seconds he had.

_Kill the past. Let it die._

_Only then can you become what you were meant to be._


	31. Holst The Planets: Mars, God of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren debuts his concerto and heads to Russia.

_“However, music is much more than just a thing: Music as an experience, as a_ spiritual _experience, is not something that can be easily described or translated into the physical realm. It resides in each of us, and it is up to the musician to draw out that spiritual experience for the listener and bring it into the physical realm.” – Maestro Luke Skywalker_

 

He entered the stage to frenzied applause; Ren did not acknowledge the crowd in any way, but rather moved, wraithlike, to the piano, as if unwillingly pulled to it.

He knew he had a reputation for excellent, dramatic flair during a performance that did not extend to his interactions with the spectators. From the moment he seated himself, the air became unnaturally still as the audience sank into a collective, anticipatory reverie.

The orchestra was situated behind him, but the players were effectively obscured by the lighting. The spotlights were trained solely on him and the piano at the front of the stage.

Alone, under the glare of the lights, he knew his hair was unruly, eyes shadowed…he must have looked half-wild, menacing, unpredictable. Nevertheless, he sat with a graceful flick of his tailcoat, cranked his neck to either side, making audible cracking sounds, and took a measured breath.

He did not acknowledge the conductor in any way, merely extended his hands to the gleaming keys of the instrument in front of him and waited for an impossibly long moment.

_You were an untended field. Rich and fertile with unlimited potential…_

The concert hall was utterly still, audience mesmerized. Then, as if communicating telepathically, the conductor lifted his arms and…his music poured forth…

_…but nothing grows there now._

Arms stretched, legs and feet moving quickly over the pedals, hands flowing elegantly over the keys, Ren’s performance hit like an earthquake, cracking foundations and devastating in its totality.

 _Focus on your feelings. Let go_ _of your hate_.

Ren felt like a man strapped to a medieval interrogation rack, slowly being stretched beyond human capacity, as if the damage inflicted by joints popping, muscles tearing, veins and vital organs and bones pulled into painfully unnatural contortions, consumed his whole being with excruciating anguish.

_If I am to harvest from this field, what is the best way to proceed?_

He played and it was a form of all-encompassing, exquisite, self-inflicted torture on full display.

 _The best way to proceed is to burn everything to the ground and reap death from the ashes_.

His world had imploded, been obliterated by a catastrophe of his own making. Everything was his fault and he had been destroyed.

As he performed, the noises he made were irrelevant. He did not hold back vicious grunts or labored exhalations as his long, dexterous fingers thundered down onto the keys.

It was as if the veil of his anger had finally been lifted all the way to reveal the truly devastating force of his love for _her_. The power of it fueled him like nothing ever had before. And it opened his eyes.

_This means there must be nothing left of the old …. And there must be ashes._

His mouth hung partially open, flecks of spit flying from his trembling full lips as his body labored to produce the music, as if the music itself and his breaths were being torn from him at great expense with softly flung “ _puhs_ ” and “ _uhmphs_ ”.

He could see clearly for the first time in his life.

Until now, the only thing he’d ever done right was punish and destroy. His musical talent, a so-called gift, was really only good for one thing: Fueling the ruin of everything he had built on a foundation of blood and ashes and death.

_True beauty - true masterpieces - require sacrifices._

He had ripped his family apart long ago and could never repair the damage of those missing years. His mother was in extreme danger because of _him_. But Rey was in danger too, and Rey was his soul. His everything.

He thrashed out the music as if he had no choice. He did _not_ have a choice.

It had been his fault his family never could understand him. It was his fault now that Rey despised him.

How could anyone as innocent of evil as she comprehend a monster?

_You know just who will come for you. The answer is nobody._

Rey finally knew the truth and _loathed_ him.

_I will never stop loving her. Until my last day. Until my last breath._

And it was rapture. Passion. Suffering.

He loved Rey with his whole heart. He might never see her again, but it did not matter anymore. His passion for her would endure forever, beyond time, if it had to.

What came out of that piano was the sound of a broken soul, if a piano could make such a sound.

If anyone could call forth impossible music like this, Ren knew he was doing it now. As he continued, he felt his countenance became that of a tortured man's or a demon’s: Red-faced, sweat pouring down, tangled, shoulder-length, ebony hair flinging sweat as his head whipped from side to side, body heaving and rolling under hunched shoulders, jaw clenched in a visible agony of effort, back stretched tightly under the expensive fabric of his tailcoat.

_Starting tonight, you will have no need for such a pathetic weakness as … hatred._

_If you commit to this, you will commit to it with everything you have or Snoke will … destroy everything you ever loved._

Now that he really, _truly_ understood who and _what_ he was, at the root of everything, he could only be that thing. Master of shadows and death. And vengeance.

Every word Snoke had ever spoken to him was poison. An infection. Toxic. That piece of filth and his sick regime needed to be wiped off the face of the earth.

_What are you willing to sacrifice? Everything._

He was sacrificing himself on an altar of music and darkness and despair. His hands flung out at the keys, whipping himself in punishment and sorrow. He poured out his soul until nothing was left, because any benediction that might have been intended for him was long gone and lost forever.

And that was okay. _I am saving what I love. And I am sorry._

Even though Rey might never forgive him, he had enough love for her to follow through with this. Because she _had_ seen him, once. She _had_ known him. The _real_ him, not the man in the monster’s mask.

The power of it was irresistible and he let it flow through him like a hurricane.

It made him…invincible.

He played as if he were crushing his own heart with his bare hands, eager to do it, because he deserved it. He was a condemned man, laid out for the world to see, unable to escape, unable to hide.

_I love you, Rey._

_I’m sorry. For all of it._

The minutes stretched into eternity. Time became a non-entity.

He’d never felt more awake.

_Finally._

If his lifetime of pain was a barren landscape of desolation, Kylo Ren was its architect.

But oh, what a landscape he could sow with what he felt _now_. With the seeds of something so much more than pain.

He could and would bring an apocalypse to his enemies because they were _her_ enemies. He would rain down blood and suffering on those who deserved it because he did it _so well_.

_Take down Snoke. Take down everything._

He would take because _taking_ was what he was good at. He would tear down Snoke’s empire brick by brick with his bare hands, lay to waste all in his path, and scorch the ground with the fire of his wrath until nothing would ever grow there again.

He would slice through the First Order like a scythe, a harvester of death, a reaper of agony.

_What are you willing to sacrifice?_

_Myself._

Because he knew _who he was_ , _right down to the core_.

_Cold-blooded executioner._

_Snoke’s Masterpiece._

When the music was over, he sat, breathing hard, feeling momentarily stunned, as if he’d just run a marathon or finished a strong orgasm. When it ended, he remained seated, facing forward before he deigned to turn his head in a half nod, glowering at the audience from underneath his indecently dripping hair.

Without any further acknowledgement of the cacophony of the cheering crowd, he stood abruptly and casually stomped off stage as if walking away from someone he’d just fucked for revenge or spite.

He was done here.

Kylo Ren was finally wide-awake and he was going to kill the past.

_Snoke. The First Order. All of it._

_You have no idea who the fuck I am. But I do, now._

He was Master of the Knights of Ren. Son of Darkness. Bringer of War.

 

Rey slumped in her seat, jaw agape, tears pouring down her face as the audience stood in unison and actually roared what was surely an ear-splitting level of noise.

The volume was punctuated by enthusiastic cries of praise, “Bravo!” and “Encore!”

But for Rey, the world had become very small and very personal. She had just observed a tormented man rip out his soul, flay it open before a roomful of strangers, shred the pieces, and discard it as if it were less than worthless.

She had just watched one of the most talented musicians she’d ever seen metaphorically exenterate himself and light the wounded pieces on fire.

And she knew exactly why he’d done it…as punishment…atonement… For _her_.

There was no way he’d written and played that beautiful, heart-wrenching music for her without loving her beyond distraction. That performance was too riddled with pain and passion and … _love_ … to be anything other than a demonstration of complete and utter adoration. And resolve.

No matter what he’d done, no matter who he was, he loved her. And she still loved him…because Kylo Ren and Ben Solo were one and the same.

And she belonged to him. Just as he belonged to her.

They were soulmates, intertwined beyond this world.

Rey’s heart started beating double-time. He had to know. She had to tell him.

_He’s leaving. He can’t leave without knowing. He can’t leave._

Rey looked around at the wild crowd and wondered if she could get to him in time.

 

He had one quick stop to make before he went dark and left the country.

His heart began to thud as the door to the dressing room creaked slowly open. His eyes burned into hers like coals from the pit of Hell.

She watched him, concerned. “Are you all right?”

He saw compassion there.

He said nothing.

She continued, “What the hell was that out there?”

He said nothing.

“Because … you just … _crucified_ yourself on a fucking piano, if such a thing is possible…Why?”

He just looked at her with shadowed eyes.

Only another truly great musician would understand what he’d just done.

“I need to go,” he finally said. “Make sure she gets this. Please.”

From his jacket pocket, he pulled a small bundle wrapped in an ash-stained handkerchief and set it gently on the countertop.

She recognized it immediately.

“You still have it? After all this time? How - ?” Phasma asked.

“Grandfather’s ashes,” Ren said before stealing out the door without a backward glance.

_There must always be ashes to sow the seeds. And now I shall reap what I have sown._


	32. Beethoven, Symphony No. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the concert. 
> 
> Kylo heads to Russia.

**Late Tuesday Night**

By the time Rey fought her way through the crowds and got to the dressing room backstage, he was gone.

Phasma was standing there with a bemused look on her face. Rey paused, startled. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Phasma, knowing what she now knew.

Rey swallowed a lump of trepidation. Phasma was like Ben. They had both…done bad things. But Rey was an excellent judge of character. She trusted Phasma.

Phasma looked at her openly and stretched out a hand. She was holding a dirty little bundle of something and she obviously intended for Rey to take it.

Rey took the bundle, meeting Phasma’s eyes curiously. It was a grubby handkerchief and something was wrapped inside it.

When she saw what it was, her heart started thumping in her chest. She felt that swooping feeling in her belly…like strong arms were lifting her through a window…into the past.

The edges were frayed, and the cover was held by a thin scrap, almost coming off. It was just a stupid little notebook, pages held by a crooked spiral wire at the top and the word “Memo” in black print on the corner of the once-bright green cover. The pages lined in blue had faded to a chalky yellow. Across the front, many years ago, Rey had carefully penned her name in childish block lettering.

Rey’s notebook of all her favorite music was half filled up with her handwriting. She was sure she’d spelled things wrong because she’d had to spell them from listening on the radio.

Some of the words weren’t even in English, but she’d always tried to sound out the letters as best she could and carefully record them in her book.

Rey abruptly sat in the room’s only chair. All of the air had been sucked out of the room.

Where her pencil marks had faded over time, a careful hand had re-traced them in ink, preserving the shapes of the letters of Rey’s childhood penmanship.

She flipped through the pages, seeing the names and compositions of her childhood favorites. Phasma was watching her, waiting for some kind of reaction…but Rey couldn’t speak.

But when she got to the last page she had written in, Rey saw the words _Ben is my friend. He will come back for me someday._

Those words had been traced over and over as if they’d been meditated on for a long time. Many times over.

Rey choked back a sob and flipped to the next page, then the next.

The other half of the little notebook was filled with Ben’s beautiful script, full of his notes for ideas on compositions, thoughts about composers, even stuff for the violin.

Rey paused at the sight of a partially composed melody for a violin concerto. It was brilliant, of course. _That’s right, I’d almost forgotten. He played violin with that chamber group. The Knights of Ren._

But what she saw next, inked onto the back cover, many years ago, made her face crumble and her chest contract, as tears streamed down her face. Loud sobs ripped out of her because there was no way for her to hold in her heartbreak anymore.

For the first time since they had met, Phasma looked awkwardly uncomfortable.

“Rey?” she had asked after Rey caught her breath, “Do you think you are able to make it home? We’re…still being watched…”

“There’s a party after the concert and I’m supposed to go…” Rey said woefully. “But I don’t think I can…”

“No, no. That’s okay,” Phasma sounded relieved to be making a decision of some kind. “I’ll tell everyone you weren’t feeling well this morning, and that’s why…you seemed a bit off tonight…” She blinked at Rey. “Fuck, darling, I’m so sorry.”

Rey gulped down another sob and looked up. 

“He’s not coming back is he?”

“I…think he wants to…but I don’t know,” Phasma intoned with all the sorrow in the world.

 

Rey did her best to clean herself up and look more sick than heartbroken as she exited the dressing room. Phasma helped with crowd control – people were still swarming around backstage, zealously praising Kylo Ren’s performance and Rey’s in equal measures.

“Hey, Phas! Rey! Where’s the Maestro?” Finn looked absolutely ecstatic. “Nobody’s seen him and I want to shake his hand.”

“He left right after the concert,” Phasma said, not unkindly, “He wasn’t feeling well, and I think Rey is sick, now, too. I’m getting her home right away…”

In a heartbeat, Finn’s eyes went from fervent enthusiasm to concern. “Oh no, Rey, are you okay? You look really unwell…”

Rose approached, overhearing, and said, “Honey, you look terrible – you were sick when you played? You were so amazing, Rey! And Ren was…that was all just so incredible!”

Phasma wrapped an arm around Rey, who was clutching the _Hammer_ in its case. “Ren came down with some kind of bug, too, and had to leave right after the show…I’m going to get our girl home, everyone…”

Phasma expertly shuffled Rey out the doors, hailed a cab, and hustled her into it.

Rey rode in shocked silence. She felt strangely numb.

“Come on, darling, let’s go up and have some tea,” Phasma murmured when they arrived at their building.

Rey had never seen Phasma behave so solicitously, but the many shocks she’d experienced that day were starting to slam into her mind. Like a sledgehammer.

She just wanted to lie down.

She wanted Ben.

She stumbled out of the cab after Phasma and they headed to the elevator.

When they arrived at the door to their apartment, however, Phasma’s demeanor immediately changed from kind and motherly to alert and dangerous.

Rey felt a cold prickle run down her spine.

“Something’s wrong. Someone’s in there,” Phasma muttered quietly.

Rey felt an immediate sense of peril.

Phasma looked at her with deadly serious eyes and whispered, “Rey. I’d send you away, but he might have guards watching the building for anything suspicious. When we get inside, I need to you play along with me, okay?”

Rey nodded. Mere hours ago she had never wanted to see Ben’s face again and now it was the only thing she could think about.

Phasma put on her most casual expression and said in a normal voice, “Oh, Rey, darling I’m so sorry you’re ill! Let’s get you inside and make you a cup of tea, shall we?”

She opened the door and ushered Rey in. Rey had no trouble feigning surprise at seeing the red-haired man sitting on their sofa.

She wasn’t surprised because she’d never seen him before. She was surprised because he had a lethal-looking gun pointed right at her head.

 

As Ren approached his jet at the private airfield, he recalled Snoke’s words to him many years ago.

_“If you want to achieve true power, you must have full mastery over yourself and those around you. This is not an easy task to accomplish, but should you succeed, you will be able to achieve even more than your grandfather ever did.”_

After his performance tonight, Snoke would have no doubts as to his loyalty.

Tonight, Ren had finally achieved everything he had ever thought he wanted. He knew his performance would escalate his reputation to something far greater than even his grandfather had ever attained.

He had finally achieved everything he _thought_ he wanted…and it had all been built on broken promises and lies.

He could never eclipse the pain of his childhood with fame and power. Only love could do that.

So, when he left Rey her notebook, he also realized he could _try_ to keep one promise. _Just one._

Over the years, Rey’s notebook had become a talisman for him, a charm of sorts that had warded off the darkest, blackest parts of him. It had acted like a sedative, soothing him when he had been lonely and afraid, wondering what he’d done to himself and to his family. To Rey.

When he had written the words on the back cover of that little notebook so many years ago, he'd had the best of intentions. When he realized he would never be able to follow through on those intentions, he had carried them with him through the years, a guilty burden, and hidden in them in his grandfather’s ashes.

Now his talisman was gone and he should be sinking into despair.

_“With your talent, your physical strength, and your quick mind, I could fashion you into such a weapon that none would ever stand in your way. I could make you my heir, boy, but it won’t be without cost.”_

He was heir to a kingdom of ashes. Nothing more. And it had cost him everything.

But he was a weapon, too. And now, sharpened and hardened by the shattering awareness that had poured forth when he’d played for Rey less than an hour ago, Ren knew he was more dangerous than he’d ever been. 

He could see the value of the Kenobi method – finally – and he understood it. Underneath it all, that regime lacked balance. It was too old-fashioned, dogmatically rigid, and ultimately inflexible. But, that method had allowed Rey to overcome her shock and play a technically perfect violin concerto that evening. Maybe only a small handful of people who witnessed that performance, Ren included, would have sensed something had been missing… Nevertheless, the Kenobi method had saved her life tonight, and Ren was thankful for it.

Luke had always told him to follow the score, to find balance, to search his feelings. And when he’d played tonight, he had done all of those things simultaneously - because he had finally realized he was the author, architect, and composer of his past, present, and future. He could _change_ the score. He could _rewrite_ the score.

Ren had always been good at dousing beautiful things in metaphorical gasoline, striking a match, and standing back to watch the world burn…doing it now made no sense and total sense.

He didn’t deserve happiness because there was no happiness he could give. He finally understood how life was an exchange, and he had only ever traded pain for more pain.

His entire life had been one broken promise to her. 

He would love her until his last breath, his last heartbeat. Even if he only got one more hour of life, one more heartbeat, he could not squander them. Those hours and heartbeats belonged to Rey, now. And he had to try to make it right.

She was his destiny, his balance. One way or another, he had to try.

He thought about his plan to take care of Hux, and he hoped Hux’s recent maneuverings would not work against them. Hux’s attempt to make a move had bumped up the timeline for Ren’s plans by a full day. But Phasma had sworn she could take care of him, and Ren had to trust she would.

Weeks ago, he had set up the pretext of sending his jet back to Russia with Hux. Hux’s role at the UN would be finished, and Snoke had wanted him out of the country well before the attack.

It would be risky for Ren to take the jet to Russia and to leave Hux in New York with Rey and Phasma.

If Hux tipped off Snoke the jet was gone and Ren couldn’t be found, they’d be waiting for him at the airfield in Russia with a small army to take him out.

But Ren knew Hux almost as well as himself. Hux was greedy and malicious. There was no way he wouldn’t try to take out Ren personally before heading back.

He would be like a cornered, feral dog…and Ren knew if Hux were going to make a move, the first thing he would try to do, now that his assassins were in a dumpster outside Lincoln Center, would be to find Ren.

Hux would go to the apartment, most likely.

And Ren wouldn’t be there.

 

Rey’s apartment was the last stop Ren had made before heading to the airfield.

First, he had stripped the place of all the weapons he could get his hands on. He didn’t have time to stop at his cache across town.

He also left his phone there because he knew Hux was tracking it. All the evidence he left there made it look like he’d gone immediately to the apartment, taken a shower, left his phone, and run to the corner store for some medicine.

Then he’d slipped past the man tailing him and headed for his jet.

The flight plan was scheduled, the pilots he’d hired had been bribed beyond belief, and he’d even ensured Snoke would be expecting Hux’s return.

He prayed if he didn’t make it back, Rey would understand. Somehow.

He recalled his conversation with Phasma weeks ago when he’d pulled a gun on her in his office and asked her for help.

_“Why are you asking me for help, Ren? Why would you trust me?”_

_“We’ve known each other far too long for you to play dumb, now. Why don't you tell me why I should trust you, Phasma?”_

She had watched him for an eternity before she finally answered him.

“Because I’ve been your guardian-fucking-angel since the minute you helped me. _That night._ The night of my so-called _initiation_ ,” she had told him calmly.

Kylo would never forget that night.

In all the blood and violence he had been exposed to or perpetuated over the years, _that_ night and the sight of Phasma’s bloodied, unconscious body on the floor of her room, remained the most shocking thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ve never had a friend in my life. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I had…but we were just kids, and after what they did to me…” Phasma was speaking in her characteristically unflappable voice, but her eyes held deep pain.

He recognized it. He had always known it had to be worse somehow for the girls in that so-called school. He felt fresh hatred for Snoke writhe through him. And self-loathing that he hadn’t done more to help...

“It was me. Who kept your letters from being mailed. I was - I was trying to protect you,” Phasma went on.

Kylo arched a brow at that. _Luke never lied. Luke had been telling the truth._

“I overheard Maul and Snoke the day after. _After that night_ ,” Phasma’s voice was controlled, but her eyes burned into his, willing him to understand.

“They were talking about you and whoever you had written that first letter to … Snoke told Maul if you kept it up he’d have to ‘put you down’. So, I went to the hall table and found your letter. And I made sure it never got sent.”

Kylo nodded for her to continue, intrigued, but not surprised.

“After that, I watched for you leave the letters on the table and I stole them before Maul could see. And I burned them.” She didn’t look sorry. Kylo understood.

“They always watched you so much more closely than the rest of us. You were…special. Your talent. Unmatched.” She shook her head. “But also, I could see how much trouble you were getting into…you were holding on to the past. It was going to get you killed.”

“Maul was watching you so closely. I went through your room and found the notebook. It was me who left you the warning to destroy it.”

Kylo nodded again, he’d suspected it had been her who had warned him.

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t burn _that_. It was-”

“Mine.” He had said flatly.

“But I read it. It was obviously a child’s writing, not your penmanship. I assumed maybe a sister or a cousin of yours…She wrote that you were her friend.” Phasma was looking at him as if she were seeing the boy he’d been and not the merciless killing machine he’d been made into.

“And I read what you’d written on the back cover…and I felt… it was like, if I could help one person, then maybe _I_ wasn’t totally lost. That maybe there could be hope. A _Rey_ of hope.” Phasma almost smiled at her joke. “Or redemption. Or _something_ for people like us…”

_People like us. Beyond redemption. Beyond hope. Monsters._

“And then later when we came to New York, when I found out it had been _her_ you were protecting – Rey – the name on the notebook and your letters…I had to help her, too. Before Snoke or Maul or Hux or any of them could get their hands her and…”

Her voice drifted off, but Ren felt a wave of relief wash through him so strongly it made his eyes water.

He had known then Phasma would help him or die trying.

He had to trust now she would follow through with the rest of his plan.

He had to fight as if he had everything to lose.

He focused on the unfulfilled promise he had once written in that little notebook and willed himself to finish this.

_I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise._


	33. Strauss – Also Sprach Zarathustra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo plans his attack. Rey and Phasma interrogate a captive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER: This piece has archive warnings for graphic violence. There is a scene of extremely brutal violence at the end of the chapter. Please stop reading after “Phasma was surprisingly efficient at interrogation.” if you don’t want to read that part.

Rey walked into the apartment ahead of Phasma then froze in shock.

 _Ben must have missed us all by mere minutes,_ Rey thought, as she stared down the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

Behind her, Phasma closed the door with a final click and calmly removed her thick wool coat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane, headed back to Russia?” Phasma asked casually, hanging her coat on a hook next to the door. Her voice and actions betrayed no surprise at the red-haired man’s presence or the fact he was holding a gun on them.

“Where is he, Phas?” the man asked, not lowering his weapon.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? He was sick. He left right after the concert,” Phasma sneered coolly. “I thought you were supposed to be watching him, Hux?”

Rey’s heart skittered in her chest. _Ben._

“His phone was left in the kitchen. He left a note. For her.” Hux nodded at Rey. “Said he was going to get some medicine from the corner market. We were tracking his phone’s location, and he had a tail, but I’ve just been informed he left the apartment and disappeared,” Hux stated.

“Put the fucking gun down,” Phasma said threateningly. “She’s not going to be a problem.”

Hux’s eyebrow quirked up and he lowered the gun, focusing his attention fully on Rey. His dead-eyed gaze made her skin crawl. Rey had no doubt this man would kill her in a heartbeat if he felt so inclined. She felt dizzy.

“Rey!” Phasma barked coldly. “You’re ill. Go put your things away. Change into something more comfortable. Don’t take too long. I want you where I can see you...”

“How much does she know?” Hux hissed at Phasma, even as he still watched Rey with an icy stare.

“She knows enough to do as she’s told,” Phasma replied with an equally arctic gaze. Phasma’s eyes turned to Rey and Rey felt a momentary chill at the lethality in her roommate’s voice.

The look on Phasma’s face strongly reminded Rey of Ben’s face in that dressing room earlier. _He was trying to protect you, Rey. He was trying to get you out there. To save your life. Just as Phasma is doing now._

Hux lowered the gun as Phasma sat in a chair across from him. Rey took that as her cue to put her violin in the safe and change into jeans and a t-shirt.

As she left the room, she heard Hux say, “I searched for weapons. You are surprisingly understocked…not like you at all, my dear.”

Rey heard Phasma reply vaguely that it wouldn’t do to have their _asset_ stumble across a small armory and ask too many questions…

… _weapons?_

Rey’s heart began pounding as she locked away the _Hammer_ and her notebook. She couldn’t resist looking one last time at the back cover. _I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise._

She willed herself not to break down as she traced a finger over Ben’s words.

Then she stripped out of her coat and concert gown and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as quickly as she could. It wouldn’t do to have that man – Hux – come into her room to investigate if she took too long.

“Rey!” Phasma called from the living room. Rey walked slowly out of her room and looked Phasma right in the eye. Phasma’s cold blue eyes reflected nothing.

Rey was scared, but she would play along. Ben would not have left her with Phasma if he thought Phasma would hurt her. Rey had to trust. She had to hope.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of tea? I’m in the mood for chamomile,” Phasma said it like she was ordering a dog to sit.

Hux sneered and called out rudely, “None for me, thanks.” He didn’t bother to look at Rey.

_Phasma hates chamomile. She only drinks loose-leaf Earl Grey. Why - ?_

And then Rey knew. _The chamomile tea bags. They were in the gun cupboard._

Would Hux have thought to look in such an obvious place for weapons?

Making no sudden moves, Rey went into the kitchen and filled the teapot with water, setting it on the stove to boil.

Hux was facing away from the kitchen, concentrating on Phasma’s conversation.

Rey’s hands shook as she found a tray in the bottom cupboard and pulled out two mugs. She sensed Phasma was watching her like a hawk.

Rey opened the gun cupboard and there it was, behind a box of cereal. A SIG Sauer 9mm.

She knew it would be loaded because Phasma had shown her how to check it when she’d first moved in. Phasma had told her she was just terrified of the crime in New York and would always keep a loaded gun in the cupboard. Just in case.

 _Phasma, terrified? What a joke!_ Rey almost started laughing hysterically as the stress of the day started to catch up with her…

_Just in case? Just in case what? An evil Russian mobster showed up at the apartment?_

Before she lost her nerve, Rey slipped the gun into the back waistband of her jeans. Hux didn’t turn around.

Phasma and Hux were talking about the Knights of Ren…something about a man named Snoke…Rey’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the words “Order 66.” Ben had mentioned that. They were all in extreme danger.

_I’ll come back for you sweetheart._

The teakettle made a whistling sound and Rey poured water over the chamomile tea bags in their mugs.

Such a domestic task underscored the danger she was in…and Ben. Her hands shook, and hot water splashed onto the tray.

_Be brave. You love him. He loves you. It’s going to be okay. He’s coming back._

She repeated the words in her head as she carefully picked up the tray and walked into the living room. The weight of the gun against her lower back was both ominous and comforting.

_He’s coming back for you. He has to. He promised._

“Ren should be back by now,” Hux said, pulling out his phone. “Something’s wrong.”

Phasma’s eyes flashed to Rey as Hux was momentarily distracted. Rey quickened her steps and sidled around between Phasma and the coffee table, careful not to expose the gun tucked into her jeans.

It was so quick, Rey didn’t even know what had happened until it was over.

Phasma yanked the gun from Rey’s waistband and shoved her to the side. Still holding the tea tray, Rey hit the floor hard. Hot tea splashed onto her arms, but she didn’t feel it. She was terrified. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

“Put the phone down, Armie,” Phasma purred softly. “Hands where I can see them.”

Hux looked a combination of infuriated and resigned. And coldly dangerous.

“Rey, darling, I need you to go in my room and fetch the handcuffs and ball gag from my nightstand,” Phasma intoned quietly, holding the gun on Hux with a rock-steady hand.

“Phas, what the fuck?” Hux put on a pleading voice. It sounded very false to Rey’s ears. Nevertheless, she went into Phasma’s room and grabbed what Phasma had asked for.

She returned and handed the items to Phasma.

“Take the gun,” Phasma ordered, sliding a wickedly long knife from a strap at her thigh as she passed the gun to Rey. “If he even breathes too hard, shoot him. I mean it.”

“Phas? After everything? You’re really doing this to me?” Hux moaned. His pale blue eyes slid over to Rey and she felt like a reptile was watching her.  

Phasma didn’t answer, as she roughly forced Hux into the cuffs while holding the blade between her teeth. She did not cuff him behind his back, Rey was surprised to note.

Phas must have guessed at the question in Rey’s eyes and said simply, “I want to see those hands at all times…You always were a good little escape artist, Armie…”

There was no fondness in her tone at the friendly reminder.

Rey trained the gun on their captive. Her hand only shook a little. Until she remembered Ben was in danger.

Could she kill this person? Could she actually pull the trigger and take a life?

She decided she could if she had to. Her hand steadied. A small part of her understood what was at stake. Morality became very grey if she had to choose between Ben and this man who wanted Ben dead.

Hux’s eyes widened when Phasma strapped the gag around his face and head. Rey wondered about that, too. Didn’t they need information from him? How would this help?

Phasma quickly made her intentions obvious as she slid her blade around to Hux’s left ear. And then she said very softly, “You’re going to help me, or I’m going to take you apart. _Piece. By. Piece._ ”

Hux nodded. The coldly dangerous look in his eyes had been replaced with fear. The knowledge that Phasma would seriously fuck him up if he didn’t do exactly what she said was clearly reflected on his face.

Everyone in the room knew that Phasma was unmistakably in charge right now. _Ben can do that too_ , Rey thought randomly. _Take over a room in a heartbeat._

It was scary to see a person she thought she knew behaving this way. Like when Ben had pulled a knife on those people in that alley. Or…later…

Rey felt a surge of bile but kept her hand steady on the gun. It was heavy, but her arms were strong from years of holding a violin and bow up for hours at a time.

She would do whatever she needed to do. For Ben.

**Wednesday**

Although it was only about 10:00 am back in New York, in Russia, it was already late afternoon. Sunset would hit in a few hours, which would give Ren enough daylight to make his way to the Palpatine compound, provided things went according to plan.

Ren tried to sleep as best he could on the jet, knowing he would not get the opportunity for several days.

He tried not to think too hard about Rey. He tried and failed.

Going dark was the only way to ensure everyone was safe. The pilots would not communicate with anyone at all for the remainder of the flight. Ren couldn’t risk a phone call to anyone, not even from a burner phone. Not until he was sure they were no longer being watched.

If Snoke had an inkling Ren was coming for him…or that the Knights of Ren had been turned…but Ren had to trust that Phasma would follow the plan.

His thoughts turned to his Knights.

_Max, Ivan, Constantine, Sophia, Nikita, Alex._

Ren had sent a single text to Nikita last night on his way to the apartment after the concert. Right before he went dark. About the two Uralmash hitmen meeting him outside of Lincoln Center earlier that evening.

Nikki had immediately replied she hadn’t been aware there were any Uralmash left…and that’s when Ren knew. His Knights had turned on him.

_Hux._

They would be waiting for Hux to arrive at that airfield. He could feel it in his gut.

If Phasma killed Hux too soon, they would be tipped off. They would need to communicate with him, to confirm he was headed to Russia and the approximate time of his arrival.

Even worse, if Hux sent word ahead that Ren had gone dark…Ren would be flying to his own death the minute he stepped off the plane. If the plane even made it to the ground.

But he knew Phasma would follow through. She had to.

Ren had to take out the Knights before he got to Snoke’s compound. If he let them go and took out Snoke first, they would be like rabid dogs turned loose – indiscriminately killing anything and anyone in their path. Or, even worse, they could go to ground for years before springing back up for vengeance.

Ren needed the element of surprise.

He was hours away. He needed to get ready.

 

Ren arrived at the airfield in the early evening. He had taken a number of guns and knives from Rey and Phasma’s apartment, knowing Hux would be there likely minutes after he left.

He had left the gun in the kitchen cupboard, hoping Hux would get distracted by his phone and note directly underneath on the kitchen counter. It had been a gamble, but even if Hux had found the gun, Phasma was excellent at disarming people.

He had to trust. He had to believe.

At this point, it was a matter of buying minutes, not hours. Either way, whatever had happened at the apartment was already done and over with now.

It was killing him, knowing that one way or another, events in New York were beyond his control. They had already happened.

Now he could only do what he was meant to do. _Take down the First Order. Take down Snoke._

As the jet hit the landing strip, Ren watched the hanger at the end for suspicious activity. _No small army. No anti-aircraft missiles pointed their way…_

Hopefully, it would just be his Knights. _Former Knights._

Because those traitors would be dead in the next thirty minutes.

Ren had a promise to keep.

He filled himself with hope and stood to exit the plane.

 

**_Last night_ **

Phasma was surprisingly efficient at interrogation.

It had taken her less than five minutes to discern that Hux had been planning a takeover for a while. Starting with tipping off Uralmash that Ren would be going after the _Hammer_ all those months ago. It was Hux’s fault Rey and Kylo were shot at that night. Rey blinked in surprise.

They also learned that Hux had planned on meeting with the Knights of Ren upon his planned arrival back in Russia. After killing Ren personally, since the assassins he’d sent earlier in the evening had botched the job.

He had then planned to go to Snoke, under the pretext of revealing his concerns about Ren’s loyalties, kill Snoke and his guards, and overtake the First Order.

He would have sent the Knights back to New York to finish the UN job, as that would have made things easier for him…or, so he thought. So he had planned.

And Phasma had understand all of that through the ball gag.

Rey would have been impressed if she hadn’t felt so sickened at what happened next.

Phasma had just asked a simple question about Hux’s spy network.

“What’s the abort code for the East Coast units?”

Hux shook his head. He hadn’t even finished his refusal to answer before Phasma sliced off his ear.

The man’s terrible screams were muted by the gag, but Rey felt herself go cold and sweaty. She was going to faint. Blood was dripping down Hux’s neck and coating his jacket and the back of the sofa where he was sitting.

“Rey! Do _not_ pass out. Ben needs you.” Phasma barked the order at her without turning away from the writhing man on the sofa.

She hovered over him like a blonde avenging angel. Beautiful and deadly.

“Armie,” Phasma purred into his good ear. “Don’t make me take a finger next. Fingers bleed worse than ears, you know?”

Hux gave her the code.

Phasma gave Rey a brief assessing look, ensuring Rey still had the gun trained on him and set about dismantling Hux’s East Coast spy network using his cell phone.

“How long until your people are gone?” Phasma asked.

Hux’s eyes were rolling in his head.

“Rey, look away,” Phasma bit out right before she stabbed Hux just above the kneecap. “Don’t make me ask a second time, Armie. You know I fucking hate doing that.”

Rey didn’t look away, but she felt another wave of nausea roll through her as Phasma twisted the blade into the man’s leg. The knife made a sickening crunching sound as it ground against…whatever it was Phasma was hitting.

 _Don’t think about it, Rey. Ben needs you. Hold up the gun._ Rey had no doubt Hux was like a wounded animal right now and would be more dangerous if he thought he could escape.

But the noises Hux was making were even more horrible than the sound of that blade digging into his leg. Rey felt herself gag.

He groaned an answer that was unintelligible to Rey, but Phasma nodded as if she understood everything.

“Rey. If you are going to be sick, you need to wait just another minute,” Phasma wiped blood off her hand onto the back of the sofa and swiped a long, elegant finger across the screen of her own phone. As she held it to her ear, she put a finger to her lips to Rey.

Hux was moaning quietly until Phasma told him to shut it. His lips quivered in silent agony, but he did not make a sound.

“Master Snoke.”

“We just finished the concert. It went as planned.”

“Yes, Hux is returning momentarily, he’s just about to board Ren’s jet.”

“Yes, Master.”

“No. Ren actually got food poisoning if you can believe it.” Her voice dripped disdain at that. “You’d like to speak to him? I don’t know if he can talk…he’s quite ill.” She slapped the side of Hux’s head. The bleeding side.

Hux began making the most awful gagging sounds.

“Yes, that's him. I’m looking at him right now…I’m sure it won’t last long…I’ll have him call you in the morning…”

“Yes, Master. We’re still set for Saturday. Everything is in place.”

She hung up and drew her blade across Hux’s throat without preamble.

Rey dropped the gun and vomited all over the carpet.

While Rey was throwing up, Phasma had snagged Hux’s phone and was typing furiously onto the screen.

“Making sure the Knights of Ren are there at the airfield to meet him,” she muttered as if Rey had asked what she was doing.

“Wait! _Why?_ Won’t they be expecting _Hux_?” Rey cried out in alarm, wiping puke from the side of her face. “Aren’t there, like, six of those guys?”

Phasma considered Rey calmly for a moment before answering the question as if she were explaining to a child.

“Rey. _Darling_. Kylo Ren is a one-man wrecking ball. Those Knights are walking dead. They just don’t know it, yet.”


	34. Vivaldi, The Seasons: Winter

**Very, very early Wednesday Morning**

“So, what do we do now?” Rey asked. The room reeked of blood and vomit and the dead man on the sofa was grotesquely sprawled in a caricature of pain.

“We need to buy Ren just a little more time…” Phasma stated. “Go get your ballgown back on. We’re going to a party.”

“Wait!” Rey’s head was spinning. “What about … _his_ …spies?” Rey couldn’t look at the red-haired corpse on the sofa.

“They’re pulling out as we speak.”

“That fast?”

“That fast,” Phasma confirmed, whipping out her phone.

“But. How will Ben know? That we’re okay?” Rey worried.

“Because. His jet won’t get blown out of the sky when he lands in Russia tomorrow,” Phasma replied in a voice of pragmatic unconcern. “Come on.”

“Why are we going to a party?” Rey asked.

“We need to talk to the Skywalkers. _Immediately_.”

Rey scrambled to her room, getting her second wind. Or third. Adrenaline was coursing through her in a hot stream. _Luke and Leia can help Ben? Somehow?_ Phasma seemed to know how.

Rey heard Phasma on the phone discussing terms of payment when she came out of her room wearing her concert gown once again. Amazingly, Phasma hadn’t gotten any blood on her own gown from the evening’s vicious interrogation.

Rey tried to avoid looking at the carnage in the living room. But the smell of blood and vomit … and other unpleasantness … made her stomach turn.

Phasma ended her phone call and gave Rey an evaluating look.

“When we get back here, it will be like none of this ever happened,” Phasma assured her as she noted the pale look on Rey’s face. “A cleaner will be here in fifteen minutes. Let’s go.”

 

In the cab, Phasma gave Rey a bit more of an explanation. “Now that the surveillance is lifted, we need to get to Luke and Leia right away. Hux’s little scheme bumped everything up sooner than we’d planned.”

“You _planned_ this?” Rey whispered in horror.

“Weeks ago. With Ren.” Phasma patted Rey’s leg. “We didn’t know Hux was making a move today, but the plan was for me to extract the information we needed to shut down his spy network as Ren was leaving for Russia. We had to wait until after tonight’s concert so Snoke wouldn’t suspect anything and make preparations to defend himself. Ren hadn’t been planning on leaving immediately after the concert. And I wasn’t planning on doing…all of that in our living room. I’m sorry.”

Rey felt crushed. _He’d been planning to leave this whole time…_ It all made sense, and yet…

“Ben left me.” Rey’s heart couldn’t unstick itself from that bare fact. “He didn’t say a word.”

And the last words he’d spoken to her, in spite of his music, had been so vicious. Those couldn't be the last things he would ever say to her. The idea was too devastating. 

“He couldn’t tell you, Rey. None of us could,” Phasma said sternly at the look on Rey's face. Rey was too caught up in her feelings to be afraid of the quelling edge that had crept into her roommate’s voice.

“ _None_ of you? Who else knows?” Rey cried, eyes widening.

“Luke’s known for weeks. That’s why Ren asked him to conduct on Saturday. So, he could maintain appearances until Ren either got back from Russia or…”

Rey remembered her confusion about why Ben would ask his uncle to conduct at the finale when Ben had been so furious with Luke about their letters. Every time she’d tried to ask him about it, Ben would either change the subject or start kissing her.

She said to Phasma, trying to piece things together, “Why Luke? Ben hates him. Luke kept all the letters Ben sent to me from school, and I -”

“Luke never kept those letters, Rey,” Phasma told her quietly as the cab bumped along through light evening traffic of the city. “I did.”

“What? Why?!” Rey’s eyes flashed angrily. Her heart filled with betrayal – _How could Phasma do that? Why would she do that?_

But her eyes had changed considerably after Phasma explained.

“So, Ben’s plan was to go to Russia, take out everyone there and then come back?” Rey said hopefully. _I'll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise._

“That is the plan, although he wasn’t sure if he could do it…Snoke is very wily…and his guards…” Phasma paused.

“What? I thought you said Ben is a one-man wrecking ball?” Rey was panicking now. She was on the verge of hysteria. 

“He is…the Knights won’t be a problem for him. Snoke’s guards, though. They are something else. They were…our old teachers…back at school. They are very dangerous and … if Ren can’t kill them, then Order 66 will be in play within twelve hours of him eliminating Snoke or if Snoke is tipped off or if Ren dies … and then they’ll be coming for us. Ren will try to time it so he gets to Snoke right after his scheduled contact or after he takes out Maul and Grievous. Part of Luke’s job is to help me get you and Leia out of town immediately if Ren doesn’t show up by intermission for that final concert…but now that everything is happening much faster than we’d planned…”

Rey’s mind had stuck on the worry in Phasma’s voice at the idea of Ben trying to kill his old teachers. They must be really, really bad.

 _He thinks he’s going to die_ , Rey thought, gulping down tears and an overwhelming urge to scream. _That’s why he kept trying to say goodbye every time he made love to me…why that last time…he’d wanted it last forever…_

“Don’t worry, Rey,” Phasma said consolingly. “Kylo Ren is not a man to be underestimated. He’s going to go through the First Order like a hot knife through butter. And I have an idea that might help him.”

 

**Russia**

His arms were held by the two strongest knights, Max and Ivan.

Ren had always known that he would die. It was inevitable.

He allowed himself to be led into the hangar, unarmed.

Constantine, Sophia, Nikita, and Alex were just inside the hangar, as he’d expected.

 _Good,_ he thought, keeping his head bowed.

He wanted all of them in the same room, so he could take care of this quickly.

He had spent more than a decade reconciled to the fact that someday his death would likely be a violent, undignified one. 

But, he was not going to die today. They were.

 

**Earlier**

When they got back from the party, it was just as Phasma had said it would be – there was no sign of Hux, or blood, or vomit. The idea that someone had come into their home, cleaned up the carnage there, and took a dead body away should have shocked Rey more. But after everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, Rey could barely see straight, let alone think straight.

Rey was nearly falling over from exhaustion, and Phasma told her to go lie down.

“I don’t think I can sleep…” Rey mumbled as she stripped off her coat and sat to remove her heels. _Right here in the living room. I helped kill someone._ “I’m so afraid for him.”

“Rey. He’s still on a plane right now. He won’t land for hours. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a half-day at work, and we have to play along for just a little while longer … just have faith, okay?”

Rey fell asleep thinking about Luke and Leia’s faces when Phasma explained what was happening.

 

**Russia**

Ren had an encyclopedic knowledge of his _former_ Knights’ fighting skills. Even better, he knew each of their minds almost as well as his own.

Not a small part of his training was to cultivate a deep understanding of human nature, even if the humans had been twisted into something more along the lines of feral dogs.

They would want to rough him up first. They would want to savor the power of having Kylo Ren at their mercy.

And nobody had drawn knives yet. That would be their last, fatal mistake.

Ren flashed his most hot-headed Knight, Constantine, a taunting smile.

_I am Master of the Knights of Ren._

Constantine leaped at him, fist raised.

_I am here to destroy you._

And Ren moved like a phantom.

_I am the Reaper._

When Constantine lunged for him, Max had loosened his grip on Ren’s left arm. Just a fraction. But that was all Ren needed.

_I am the Son of Darkness._

The second Ren had a blade in his hand, it was over.

_I am the Bringer of War._

Nobody was stupid enough to pull a gun in the hangar, as it contained a large tanker of jet fuel just nearby.

Ren had been counting on his Knight’s overconfidence in their numbers and their mutual desire to _not_ die in a fiery explosion. And he’d counted right.

Had he tried to attack them outside, in the open, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

As it was, the fight was over fairly quickly.

He stood there, slightly out of breath, hair hanging in his eyes, looking over their bodies.

All he could think of was Rey.

_Is she all right? Phasma must have taken care of Hux somehow._

Obviously, something had gone right – the Knights had been right where he’d wanted them.

 _Still._ Ren had a bad feeling he couldn’t shake.

 

**At the Party the Night Before**

“I had no idea. My poor boy. He’s gone…” Leia looked like she was going to break down, but Luke took her hand and said, “Leia. He’s not truly gone. Not yet…Ben…he’ll be okay.”

“Luke, you don’t understand. None of you do. It’s all my fault this happened – Ben would never have gone to Snoke if I hadn’t introduced them,” Leia’s dark eyes filled with tears of remorse and her chin quivered.

“Ben was just a boy, and Snoke was at a party after one of my performances. Ben had been allowed to attend because I’d missed him so much. Ben never had many friends or much social interaction. He was such a lonely, melancholy boy. But, when I introduced them, I knew something was … off, somehow. I had heard of Snoke, of course. By the time I’d finished the introduction, though, I knew Snoke was bad. Very bad. I couldn’t shake the feeling. The way he looked at Ben was … so _predatory_. I never brought Ben on tour with me again. I was so afraid they would cross paths. I had no idea Snoke had been … contacting him,” Leia’s voice broke but she quickly mastered herself. “I should have made the connection between Snoke and Russia and … father.”

Luke winced and reached out to pat Leia’s hand. Rey could tell that Luke felt equally guilty for not doing more to keep Ben from fleeing straight to Snoke. And the mention of their father had caused a shadow to fall over the room.

However, Leia was not known for showing weakness in front of others. Her spine straightened, and she looked Phasma squarely in the eye.

“Tell me what we can do to help my son. And I’ll do whatever I can.”

 

**Russia**

As Ren picked over the dead Knights’ bodies for weapons and supplies before he trekked through the forests, he thought about the last few hours of the flight here and the preparations he had made.

On the plane, the first thing he’d done was strip off all the weapons he’d taken from the apartment. He knew if he walked off that plane armed, they would shoot him on sight.

He heard his jet taxi down the runway and take off.

 _Good_. They needed to get out of the area right away. He didn’t want them hanging around, just in case…

If all went according to plan, they would meet him back here in forty-eight hours.

If it didn’t, then he prayed the pilot he’d bribed would deliver his Last Will and Testament to his lawyers in New York.

Writing his will had taken much longer than he’d thought it would. Writing music was easy compared to trying to find the words to describe his love for Rey. To apologize to her for the lies. For the horrible things he’d said the last time they spoke.

He hoped she would understand he’d been trying to save her life.

He’d left everything to her, of course. It was just money, but he hoped she might find some consolation in knowing he’d been thinking of her in his last moments.

The twenty-mile hike into the compound left him way too much time to be alone with his thoughts. Ren tried not to dwell on the poisonous voice that had been in his head for so many years. But he soon found he couldn’t.

Snoke’s poison had sunk so far into him. He would never be clean of it.

_“Your training begins tomorrow. If you disappoint me in any way, don’t pretend I don’t know just who will come for you. The answer is nobody.”_

Every day. For months. He’d _let_ them beat him. Maul and Grievous.

Between punches, they would ask, “Who’s coming for you?”

And Ben wouldn’t answer. Saying the words would be … too final. Too hopeless.

_“Who’s coming for you?”_

He’d begged them to stop. _Begged._ But Maul had only laughed and hit him again.

_“Who’s coming for you?”_

And Greivous. He’d just returned Ben’s pleading gaze with the flat, impassive gaze of a shark.

_“Who’s coming for you?”_

_Nobody._

Ben had tried to resist the crushing blows, and he had tried even harder to fight the mental anguish. But that was what they had wanted.

_Nobody’s coming for you, Ben._

After a long while of no letters from Rey, and a particularly mean look in Maul’s eye, Ben had finally believed the words that had been pounded into him – literally – for months.

It had been inevitable. And he was so tired.

_Nobody’s coming._

“Who’s coming for you?” Maul had snarled at him while Grievous held his arms back.

Ben’s head hung limply to his chest, eyes dull, spirit broken, as he finally accepted the truth.

“Nobody,” he finally admitted with an empty voice and a dead heart.

They had stopped beating him after that.

But Ben hadn’t given up writing the letters. Not until the day Snoke finally told him about his grandfather.

_“You’ve finally shown some progress, apprentice,” Snoke had intoned with a hint of pride. In spite of everything, Ben had always looked up to his master. Snoke’s words of praise had lifted his broken spirits. It had been a long time since someone had told him he’d done well. A very long time._

_Ben Solo, kneeling before Snoke, looked at his master and mumbled an appreciative, “Thank you, Master.”_

_Snoke’s eyes had been speculative. Calculating. Ben had become used to the way the old man’s eyes crawled over him._

_“I doubt your mother or uncle ever spoke of your legacy?” Snoke’s question was rhetorical. Ben kept his head bowed respectfully but lifted his eyes._

_“I thought not. I will tell you of Anakin Skywalker.” Ben continued kneeling but was now awash with intense curiosity. Nobody in his family had ever spoken of his grandfather. Back in New York, years ago, Ben had tried looking for information on the internet but had only found an old photo of the man. He’d been holding a dark red violin and had looked … quite severe._

Ben had been shocked to learn his grandfather had been a major player in starting the First Order. He’d been so impressed that Anakin Skywalker had been so… _powerful_. Snoke had explained how Ben’s grandfather had been impressively gifted with music. Like Ben.

And when the time had come for Skywalker to choose between true power, a true legacy, or his family … _Mother. Luke._ Skywalker had made a choice that had changed his destiny.

Skywalker’s wife had become a liability shortly after the birth of their twins. She had tried to control him when she had discovered how deep her husband had been in the _Bratva_. And when she realized she couldn’t change her husband's mind, she had threatened to turn him in and destroy everything he’d worked for. So, Skywalker had eliminated the threat.

Skywalker had chosen the First Order without hesitation. His twins had been farmed out to adoptive parents when Skywalker’s wife had been discovered strangled in their apartment.

“If you are to become my heir, _your grandfather’s true heir_ , you will no longer go by the name of Ben Solo. You will choose a new name. You will be gifted Skywalker’s violin – _Il Canone_ – and you will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine…” Snoke’s words had confirmed what Ben had already known.

Without the First Order, he was nothing. But he could be something … and Snoke was willing to help him.

That night was the night of his initiation. That night he’d become Kylo Ren.

He’d stopped writing to Rey after that.

_“Who’s coming for you?”_

_Nobody._

_You’re alone._

_So be it._

 

He felt shame wash through him as dusk settled over the compound.

_I’ll never give up again, Rey._

From his vantage overlooking Snoke’s residence, Ren had seen what he’d expected to see through the scope of the sniper's rifle he had trained on the place. Sentries prowled around a fence topped with razor-wire and more were posted at every entrance. Each of them carried a standard AK-47, and Ren was positive that at least a quarter of the guards carried grenades.

All of them would have knives, as well.

None of that would be a problem. Not for him.

Ren heard the evil, snakelike voice of Snoke in his mind. _If you want to achieve true power, you must have full mastery over yourself and those around you._

But that wasn’t true. He didn’t need mastery.

He needed to let go.

Darkness settled in around him and he prepared himself for a long wait.

 

Getting into the compound was no small feat, even for a man like Ren, but once he was inside, he was unstoppable.

He systematically took out every guard.

He was an Angel of Death, and he was ruthless.

As he made his way further into the building, half a home and half a military compound, Ren’s anxiety increased.

Something was wrong. He had a bad feeling.

_Why?_

Maul. Grievous. There was no sign of them anywhere.

They were gone, and Ren’s stomach dropped.

He proceeded to Snoke’s quarters like a wraith. When he found the old man in his office, memories flooded through him on a tide of heartbreak.

This was the room where he’d given up everything. _His family. His name. Rey._

_What are you prepared to sacrifice?_

_Everything._

Snoke, seated in an expensive leather chair, turned to face him. The surprise on the old man’s sickly, withered face was quickly replaced with a look of triumph.

“The prodigal son returns, I see…” Snoke was holding a gun on him, and although Ren also had a gun pointed at Snoke, there would be no missing each other at such range.

“You’re too late, boy,” Snoke snarled maliciously. “I cannot be beaten. I cannot be betrayed. Maul and Grievous are already on a plane to New York as we speak.”

_No._

Ren dropped his gun, he was so stunned.

_No!_

_I’ve failed._

The last thought he heard before the sound of a gunshot rang through the room was –

_Rey.  I love y –_


	35. Jean Sibelius, Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are made. Plans are enacted.

**At a party, days ago…**

_“Tell me what we can do to help my son. And I’ll do whatever I can.”_

Phasma started talking and Rey exchanged a look of apology with Luke. She’d been so angry with him about the letters, and it hadn’t been his fault. She listened as Phasma outlined the events of the past few hours, filling in the blank spots to Luke, who asked a few pointed questions.

It occurred to Rey that by going to the party and confessing to a number of crimes, including the brutal murder of a man in their living room not an hour ago, that Phasma was putting her life and freedom on the line.

As well as Ben’s.

Rey listened as Phasma finished filling in the details of what was happening and her idea to help Ben.

When Phasma finished speaking, Leia stared at both of them and Rey could only see Ben’s eyes looking back at her.

“You want to do _what?_ ” Leia shook her head in outrage at Phasma’s suggestion.

“Order 66 is Snoke’s insurance plan. If he thinks he’s going to be betrayed, he will send in his bodyguards to wipe out everyone. But if we follow through with my plan, Snoke will send them to finish the last job on the table. You are targets, yes, but we will know where they will be for a very short period of time. If we can't get to them Saturday night, they will come for you when you least expect it. And while Ren had a backup plan to get you all out safely, I have doubts about being able to keep you all safe indefinitely. The men who will be coming for you … they’re animals.”

“How will your plan help my son?” Leia was listening, and Luke was shaking his head. Neither of them looked convinced at what Phasma was proposing.

“It will buy him time. He’ll be planning on needing about two days to get this done. He has to get to the compound, and it’s a 20-mile hike through forests riddled with mines and trip-wires. Then he will need to execute every guard, every possible threat within that compound. And then take out Snoke.”

“How many guards?” Rey couldn’t help but ask.

“Twenty-six. Maybe more.”

“That’s impossible!” Luke shouted, blue eyes sparking with outrage.

“Not for Ren,” Phasma replied. At the steely glint in her eye, Luke backed down. “There are probably three people alive who could take out Ren in single combat. Maul, Grievous, and me.”

“If we lure Maul and Grievous back under the pretext of finishing the so-called terrorist attack, and if we do it before Ren lands in Russia, then how will that buy him time?” Luke pried.

“Because he won't have to fight them on their own turf. That’s where you come in.” Phasma turned to Leia. “Until about five minutes ago all of your major government agencies on the Eastern Seaboard had a deeply embedded network of spies and informants who reported directly to the man I interrogated, Hux. I have just dismantled that network, but I don’t know for how long. The second Snoke suspects Hux betrayed him, he will instigate a backup plan. He will _definitely_ do it as soon as I call him, which I will need to do before Ren gets to that compound. So, we need to be proactive. We need to act. Right now.”

Leia was nodding in agreement, now.

Phasma continued, “Ren will land in Russia soon. Then it will take him about ten hours to get to the compound on foot. I will call Snoke tomorrow, after Ren lands but before he can make it to the compound. If I tell Snoke Hux defected and Hux’s spies are gone, Snoke will send Maul and Grievous to New York to finish the terrorist attack. That will get Maul and Grievous out of the way in time for Ren to get into the compound and take out Snoke. Ren will go much more quickly if Maul and Grievous aren’t there. He can come back sooner...”

“Won’t he need to go back through the forests and get to his jet, if it’s even still there when he needs it?” Leia asked cannily.

“Not if we send in help,” Phasma stated calmly.

“How?” Leia asked, even though she looked like she already knew the answer.

“Leia, you work with members of the government, the military. Is there anyone you trust who can get to the compound by air?”

“Well, yes, but…we can’t just fly military planes into Russian airspace…” Leia mused.

“No, but you can fly a civilian plane in, under the right circumstances. I know exactly how to access Snoke’s compound. We can send in some help to get Ren out of there and back to New York in time – ”

“ – we can be ready for them. We can end this once and for all,” Leia finished Phasma’s thought.

“But Ben won’t know that’s what’s happening. There’s no way to tell him we changed the plan,” Luke interjected.

“No,” Phasma said, pulling two golden dice linked on a chain from her cleavage. “So, whoever you send is going to give him this. He’ll trust them.”

Leia gasped at the sight of Han Solo’s lucky dice.

“When Maul and Grievous arrive here, they will work with me and Ren to finish the job at hand. And in the meantime, Maestro, Rey, and I are going to continue to prepare for the concert,” Phasma stated.

 

There had been no word from anyone since Wednesday afternoon when Phasma had told Rey that Leia was able to speak with an old friend over tea at lunch. An Amilyn Holdo, who was a friend of hers from school, worked for Homeland Security and, with the information Leia had provided her, would be able to assist with security at the finale. Among other things. If, as Phasma had assured her, Maul and Grievous had not yet arrived from Russia, then they would have been relatively safe from prying eyes. For the moment.

Leia and Holdo's meeting would not draw any suspicion, especially now that Phasma was sure Hux’s spies had vacated their posts.

By the time Phasma called Snoke Wednesday evening, however, Rey’s nerves were raw from the strain.

After ending her conversation with Snoke, Phasma tried to reassure Rey that Ren wouldn’t arrive at the compound for a few more hours, and even then, it would take all day for him to infiltrate it.

Rey couldn’t eat or sleep, knowing what Ben would be doing to wipe out Snoke and the First Order. She didn’t even know if he’d managed to take out the Knights of Ren or survived his trek through the forest.

By Thursday morning, dread settled over Rey like a layer of ice. Phasma had received a message early that morning that Maul and Grievous had just arrived and were making arrangements to finish the UN job.

Rey had to pretend like two very dangerous men weren’t now in New York, preparing to kill everyone she knew and loved in a fake terrorist attack that might culminate in her own violent, brutal death.

In the meantime, Rey had to attend the day's rehearsal and pretend like everything was going according to plan. Like her heart hadn’t been ripped out and flown to Russia on a crazy, fatal mission to take out a deadly Russian mob boss. At his highly fortified military compound.

_Ben. Please come back to me. I cannot live without you._

Early Thursday morning Rey woke up at three in the morning and couldn’t fall back asleep.

She crept out to the kitchen and found Phasma sitting at the kitchen island. Phasma had just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.

Phasma was always doing things like that. Making coffee at just the right time, even though she only drank tea. Sensing when Rey needed company or needed to be alone.

Now she looked at Rey with her fathomless blue stare and said simply, “We’ll know by the end of the day.”

Rey poured herself a cup, avoiding the gun cupboard, and sat wordlessly across from Phasma.

“Tell me about him,” Rey said quietly. “Tell me everything. I – want to know.”

And so Phasma told her as much as she could remember about Ben Solo, who, after arriving at the Palpatine School, eventually became Kylo Ren.

It had been a real music school for regular students, for the most part. When students arrived, they would be settled into a dormitory-type setting and their skills would be evaluated. A rare few, who showed exceptional talent and met with “counselors,” however, would be moved to the elite wing for more intensive training.

Phasma could only speculate that Ben’s experience had been similar to hers in that regard. When she’d first arrived at the school, she’d been put through a series of rigorous auditions and so-called counseling sessions that she later realized were thinly veiled psychological profiling sessions. At first, she had been allowed to contact her family by phone or letter and come and go within the established curfews and boundaries of the school. It was what would be expected of any upscale private boarding school.

During the time he initially arrived at the school, Ben would have been allowed to call his father and arrange to have Rey moved out of London, Rey realized.

But once someone was moved to the elite wing, a very rare occurrence, they were watched much more closely. That was when Maul and Grievous took over the physical and mental _breaking in_.

Phasma paused at this. She looked unsure if she could continue. Rey reached out and grasped her hand. Phasma looked at Rey’s hand clasped on hers for a long time before she resumed talking.

“They told us we could still leave at any time. That we could still communicate with our families. But that was a lie. It was a test, you see?”

Rey nodded. “How many were there in that side…the “elite” wing?”

“I got there about three months ahead of Ben. There were four others there with me. They later became Knights of Ren. The night Ben was moved to the elite wing was the night of my…initiation.” Phasma’s face had become a solemn mask.

“You don’t have to talk about it. If you don’t want to,” Rey said.

“No – I think you should know,” Phasma said quietly. “You. You can’t understand what leads up to initiation … They take away everything that gives you a sense of hope and at the same time bind you to the cause so strongly that you actually look forward to it. You _want_ it. That night … he wouldn’t have known, yet, but he would have heard me screaming. He came and checked on me, after. He was. Very kind. Very concerned. Very scared.” Rey blinked back tears at the thought of Ben in those circumstances.

Phasma went on, “Once you start down the path, there is no going back. They take away everything of your old self. They break your spirit. And then. When they give you a new name and a new instrument, well, you’re so goddamn grateful to feel that twisted version of acceptance and belonging … you go in willingly. That’s how I got my cello. Kylo earned an extremely valuable violin called _Il Canonne Guarnerius_ , once owned by his grandfather…”

“…I thought the _Hammer_ belonged to his grandfather?” Rey interrupted. She had heard of _Il Canonne_ , of course, but the legal owner was currently unknown.

“It did – but after Skywalker joined the First Order, the _Hammer_ was left with his wife. Skywalker preferred _Il Canonne._ When his wife was killed, their twins, Luke and Leia, were adopted out, and the _Hammer_ was kept with Leia’s family until the twins came of age.”

Rey was surprised Phasma knew so much of the Skywalker family history and said so.

“Oh, Kylo Ren was famous when he arrived, even as Ben Solo, although very few of us knew his real name. Snoke made no secret over the fact that Kylo was a descendant of one of the greatest First Order operatives … I think that might be how Snoke got the idea of using musicians to infiltrate for the First Order, you know? Based on his grandfather? Anyhow. Kylo received special privileges, like being able to keep his grandfather’s ashes in his room. None of the rest of us could have anything from our past. He became Snoke’s personal apprentice. Snoke made it no secret he was grooming Kylo Ren to take over the First Order. But Snoke had him watched even more closely … which is why I kept the letters, as you know … and then later, when I realized they were going to search his room … I warned him to get rid of your notebook.”

“But he didn’t get rid of it,” Rey pointed out.

“No. He hid it. In the one place nobody would disturb, his grandfather's ashes. In spite of that, he stopped writing the letters after his initiation … I think he finally realized any connection to the past would be dangerous for both of you. And then…he became Kylo Ren.”

 

By the time they got to work later that morning, Rey was nearly hysterical with nerves.

For the past few days, Luke Skywalker had insisted the program for the finale would remain the same as originally planned. Never had Rey been so annoyed at Luke’s motto of “stick to the score.”

She knew Luke was holding out just as much hope as she was that Ben would return in time for the final concert. But every minute that passed without her knowing…it was killing her. Slowly.

_Why can’t Ben call from the plane? If he is heading back, when will he call?_

Their dress rehearsal had been scheduled for tomorrow, Friday. Rey did her best to remember she still had to perform a decent rendition of the _Sibelius Violin Concerto_. And after … Ben was supposed to perform the _Rach Two_.

A devilishly difficult piece by any standard, the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto Number Two was one of Rey’s favorite pieces of music of all time. She desperately wanted to hear Ben play it again.

Although Rey had agreed to remain with Phasma and play along, the backup plan, if Ben didn’t make it to the performance was for Phasma and Luke to get Rey and Leia to safety at intermission.

Rey had no idea what would happen after that…and she didn’t care.

She just wanted Ben.

At Thursday’s practice rehearsal, Rey’s playing lent a certain desperation to the tone of the entire evening. The orchestra could sense it all and they played as if…as if Ren was there conducting them, instead of Luke.

Halfway through, the image of Ben lying broken and dead on a mysterious, luxuriously carpeted floor somewhere in Russia crossed Rey's mind. And she stopped.

Just stopped.

She wasn’t supposed to. But she couldn’t go on.

She looked at Luke helplessly as the rest of the orchestra faltered.

Luke’s eyes blazed into hers and he addressed the room at large. “Everyone. I think that’s enough. Dress rehearsal tomorrow.”

Whispers and mutters circled around her as Rey stood on the stage, stunned. She couldn’t do this.

Luke took her arm and walked her backstage as the rest of the orchestra craned their necks, voices buzzing like an angry beehive behind their retreating forms.

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” Rey muttered frantically. Her eyes spilled over with tears. “I can’t, Luke, I can’t do this.”

“Rey.” Luke was going to give her some piece of vague advice. _Have hope. It will be okay. Ben’s okay._ But she knew it wasn’t true. She’d _seen_ it.

Her body was trembling with the despair that threatened to overwhelm her.

A buzzing sound came from Luke’s jacket pocket. He ignored it, staring at Rey with concern and pity.

She held the _Hammer_ and began sobbing in earnest. Members of the orchestra, assuming they were excused for the evening, began flooding past them, shooting curious looks her way.

Luke’s pocket buzzed again insistently. Annoyed, he pulled his out his phone and his face froze.

“Rey.” She could barely hear anything over the dread and fear washing through her as she watched Luke’s face change when he saw his messages.

Luke was shaking her arm, now. “Rey!”

And for the first time in her life, Rey fainted.

 

**Russia**

The gunshot rang through the room and Ben Solo could only feel the crushing weight of failure as he sank to his knees.

There was only one person who could have called Snoke. _Phasma._

It took him a few seconds to realize he hadn’t been shot.

He looked up through filthy strings of hair, stunned.

Snoke sat in his chair, a bullet hole between his eyes, brains and blood spattered on the wall behind him, tongue lolling out.

Ben turned to the window where a dark-haired man in a flight suit was still holding a gun. The man turned the gun on Ben just as Ben’s eyes flickered to his own gun that he’d dropped just out of reach.

“Ben Solo?” the man asked intently. He was holding something in his other hand. Ben caught a glimpse of bronze and heard a musical tinkling sound.

Ben’s eyes burned. It had been a very, very long time since anyone other than Rey or his uncle had addressed him by that name.

 _Why does that man have Dad’s lucky dice? I left them with_ – and then everything clicked into place. Ben rasped out an affirmatory, “I’m Ben.”

“Sorry I’m late – my chute got stuck,” said the dark-haired man in a flight suit. He lifted his gun away from Ben and quirked a brow at him.

“Looks like you got here just in time…” said Ben. And then the irony of his position struck him with horrifying finality. He was alive. And in Russia. _Fuck. No._

“What day is it?” Ben snarled. “Thursday?”

Poe nodded, taking note of Solo’s obvious physical exhaustion. Solo was covered in gore from the past two days of doing God knew what. Actually. Poe had an idea of what. Solo looked like he’d crawled through hell and back.

Poe wisely kept that thought to himself as he exchanged summary glances with the man in front of him. Poe was a dangerous man, himself. And Ben Solo, even kneeling on the floor as he was, fucking terrified him.

“It’s Thursday morning in New York,” Poe said carefully.

_Rey. Maul and Grievous are already in the air. Possibly already in New York, by now. Hours ahead of us, even if I didn’t have a ten-hour trek through the woods back to the hangar…and the jet won’t be there until tomorrow morning…_

“I’m Poe Dameron. Your mother sent me,” the dark-haired man said quietly. “I’ve been working personal security for her for the last few months.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be fucking guarding her then?” Ben felt rage swarm through him at the thought of his mother not being properly protected.

Poe returned Ben’s furious gaze equably and replied, “Leia said you are more important. That you are their only hope.”

Poe held out a hand. _His father’s dice. Phasma. She’d called Snoke._ _To buy me time._

As irritating as it was, Ben knew that he would never have been able to take out both Maul and Grievous on top of everything else he'd done. Hell, he wouldn’t have been able to get past Snoke without help from his mother’s agent. While the thought galled him, it also inspired him. He was still alive, and there was still hope. Until his last breath. He’d promised Rey.

_I will never give up again, Rey. I’m coming back for you, sweetheart._

Ben stood up on quaking legs, adrenaline spiking through him. “We need to get back to New York. Now!”

“I know. I heard there’s a helicopter here?” Poe had been thoroughly briefed by Phasma.

Snoke’s escape craft. Under normal circumstances, Ben could fly it easily, but he was pushing the limits of his endurance just standing there conversing with Poe. He’d kill them both if he tried to pilot that helicopter right now.

While Dameron had just saved his life, they were still trapped. And Death was flying straight to New York. To Rey.

Tears burned behind his eyelids as he tried not to rage at the man in front of him. Ben was going to break down and cry like a child as the futility of his situation poured through him. He needed to get a fucking grip and _think_.

“There is a helicopter,” Ben confessed with frustration. “But I can’t…fly it right now. I haven’t slept for days, and – we need a pilot.”

“We’ve got one,” Poe smiled confidently. “I can fly anything.”

 

Ben had deliberated leaving his grandfather’s ashes behind in Russia. But, ultimately, he felt that was a choice that should be made by Luke and his mother. Ben made one last stop at his old room, while Poe filled him in on what Phasma had done. Apparently, she’d also contacted the pilots of his jet and told them to haul ass back to that airfield and wait for them. Ben vowed he would give Phasma that jet if he lived through this.

They ran out to the helicopter pad and climbed into the seats of the small helicopter. Every muscle in Ben’s body screamed in agony as he pulled himself up and into the co-pilot’s seat and strapped himself in. He placed headset over his ears and adjusted the settings, so he could hear Dameron’s voice over the noise of the engine.

Dameron gave him a brief once-over, and Ben heard him ask through the headset, “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” Ben muttered. But he nodded in confirmation and gave a thumbs-up when he was ready to take off.

Ben gave Dameron directions to the airfield and asked him how he’d gotten into the compound.

“Phasma gave us the coordinates. We had a civilian pilot fly over, and I made the jump.”

_How? How had they managed all that?_

“Han Solo is a helluva a pilot,” Poe said, watching Ben’s reaction nervously.

 _Dad? Dad flew this man here, so I could…be saved?_ Ben’s mind reeled, but they were approaching the airfield.

_They came for me._

His mind struggled to process all the information pouring in.

Ben clutched his grandfather’s ashes like a lifeline. In spite of the horrible crimes Anakin Skywalker had committed – and he knew now that Skywalker’s choices had been reprehensible – Ben felt strangely attached to the box he’d meditated on for so many years.

Perhaps he was more attached to what he’d kept buried inside, hidden away from the evil of his world…

_Rey. I’m coming back for you._

The helicopter lurched in an air pocket, and Ben felt a rush of nausea from low blood sugar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything.

He was probably quite dehydrated, too. And he was covered in filth. The tiny bathroom on the plane would not be sufficient to wash the stench of two days of hard battle off him.

He realized his smell alone was probably enough to offend anyone in a twenty-foot radius. Dameron hadn’t said a word about it, and Ben found himself unwillingly liking the man for his unspoken tact.

They arrived at the airfield just as Ben’s jet was landing.

 

It wasn’t until he was on the jet, headed back to New York, that it hit him: Snoke was dead. Really dead. And although Ben hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, he felt the same satisfaction – a sense of justice – as if he’d done it himself.  

It felt like … redemption, somehow.

Ben glanced at the small pile of items on the seat next to him. His Last Will and Testament was there, signed and witnessed by the pilot and co-pilot who were now flying them back to New York. His father’s lucky dice gleamed dully in the light. And a carved box containing his grandfather’s ashes wobbled gently as the jet hit a bit of turbulence.

Ben picked up the box and held it in his lap.

He thought about the direction his life had taken. He thought about everything he’d blamed on his mother. He’d never fully forgiven her for introducing him to Snoke. That was when the calls had started. The weird, creepy courting. And then his mother pawning him off on his stuffy, bachelor uncle.

Hindsight and the perspective that came with it was a bitter pill to swallow.

_Mother. She’d been trying to keep me away from Snoke when she sent me to Luke. She and Snoke moved in the same social circles. It would have been inevitable that our paths would have crossed many times. She’d been trying to protect me by leaving me behind. If I had stayed with her … Snoke would have been able to get to me so much faster._

_Didn’t I just do the same thing – a hundred times worse – to Rey? Leave her with others to try to protect her?_

The irony that Ben had left the most cherished person in his life with Luke Skywalker was not lost on him.

When Poe had explained how Luke was holding down the fort under the impression _Kylo Ren_ was quite ill and unable to attend rehearsals for a couple of days, Ben could taste the sour tang of guilt and reluctant gratitude mixing at the back of his throat.

Luke _had_ been a second father to him, and Ben realized now Luke had only ever done what he had thought best for Ben. As far as second fathers went, Luke had been better than most. But Ben had never made it a secret he felt his own father was a piece of crap. So, the bar hadn’t been set very high in Ben’s mind.

Luke cared enough to help him now, though, even after everything Ben had done. Luke had stepped forward without hesitation to put himself in the limelight once again. To risk his life. _To help Ben._

And his father. Flying a plane into Russian airspace was not without risks, even if it had been a civilian plane … nevertheless, Han Solo had done it. Just as he’d helped Ben get Rey out of London all those years ago, not even saying a word about it because Ben had asked …

Why would so many people want to help him? Wasn’t he an unworthy, despicable, mass-murdering monster? How could such good people believe in redemption for a person who knew, down to the foundation of his very soul he was and always had been irredeemable? Wasn’t that what Snoke had beaten into him?

And more important than helping him, they were helping Rey. They had been there for her in ways Ben never had. Getting her out of that orphanage had been largely the work of Han Solo. But Luke’s tutelage had brought out her incredible talent with music and Leia’s sponsorship had ensured Rey would always have a home. Not to mention the fact they had gifted her – a nobody from nowhere – their own inheritance, the _Hammer._

Even if Ben had never reunited with her so many months ago, Rey still would have had a place with his family. He loved them for that.

_My family._

His mother. _She’d forsaken her own personal safety and sent her best bodyguard to help me._

His uncle was putting his life on the line to help him.

His father. _He flew halfway across the world for me._

Even Phasma. She’d helped him, too.

They’d come through for him.

They’d come for him.

The enormity of what they’d all done flooded through Ben and the hot tears prickling behind his tired eyes finally poured forth.

Ben Solo sat in his expensive Italian leather seat on his fantastic private jet and sobbed like a broken man, clutching the box of Anakin Skywalker’s ashes to his chest.

_Who came for you?_

_People who love me._

A few seats away, Poe Dameron discreetly ignored him and pretended to doze.

 


	36. Rimsky-Korsakov, Russian Easter Overture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quality of mercy is not strained;  
> It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven  
> Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;  
> It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:  
> ‘T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes  
> The throned monarch better than his crown:  
> His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,  
> The attribute to awe and majesty,  
> Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;  
> But mercy is above this sceptred sway;  
> It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings,  
> It is an attribute to God himself;  
> And earthly power doth then show likest God’s  
> When mercy seasons justice.  
> \- Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

Thankfully, Luke had done the smart thing and grabbed the _Hammer_ as Rey fell limply to the floor. Finn, who had been nearby, nervously wondering if he should intervene, saw her crumble and snatched her up in the nick of time.

When she came to, Finn, Rose, and Luke were hovering worriedly around her. Phasma rushed over and caught Luke’s eye.

The first words out of Rey’s mouth were, “Ben! He’s – ”

“Shhh! Rey! He’s okay!” Luke interrupted. In the background, Finn and Rose exchanged worried glances.

“He’s back.” Luke’s brows lifted convincingly, and his blue eyes stared kindly into her hazel ones.

“Back?” Rey’s lips trembled over the word.

Luke glanced nervously at the members of the orchestra who had surrounded them, watching their exchange and Rey’s subsequent fainting spell. He couldn’t say too much. He mouthed the words _your place_ to Phasma, and she nodded.

Phasma stepped in and hefted Rey up by the underarms. Phasma’s no-nonsense practicality was what Rey needed, although Luke’s compassionate concern was appreciated.

Rey realized she needed to get a grip on herself. _Ben. He’s okay. He came back. He’s back._

“Where?” Rey gasped, looking into Phasma’s serious eyes.

“Let’s get you home. Come on, darling,” and without another word, Phasma guided Rey to the back room to put the _Hammer_ in its case and get Rey back to their apartment.

 

 

When Ben arrived at the apartment building, he had to crawl through the window from the fire escape. There was no way the doorman would let him through – not the way he looked and smelled right now. After tripping the window latch with his Ka-Bar, Ben was stunned at the quiet familiarity that greeted him. Sofa, end tables, recently repaired Casablanca poster. _Gun cupboard._

The phone he’d left behind was charging on the kitchen counter.

His nose caught the particular astringent scent of bleach and … it smelled like a cleaner had been in recently. Not a housekeeper. _A cleaner._

His gut churned with dread, as he realized he’d suspected correctly. Hux must have come here after Tuesday’s concert. _Rey. What must she have seen?_

_She’s at rehearsal. She’ll be home in an hour or so._

And Ben needed that hour to clean up. He was filthy. And after he’d had some time to collect himself and briefly wash up on the jet, he’d promptly passed out for the remainder of the flight.

Dameron did not disturb him, and Ben wasn’t sure if he was grateful or not. When he woke as they were landing, Ben wanted only one thing. _Get back to Rey and see with your own eyes that she’s okay._

The only concession he’d made after they’d landed was to inform Poe to text his uncle he was back. With Maul and Grievous in the city now, they agreed to keep communication between themselves to a minimum, unless absolutely necessary.

Although Ben was pretty sure Hux’s spies had been sent away, Maul and Grievous would likely focus their attention on Lincoln Center and his mother…

Still, old habits die hard, and Ben had to strongly resist the urge to show up at Lincoln Center covered in the majority of blood, filth, and gore that he’d been unable to remove in the small bathroom of the jet. He wanted to see Rey more than anything in the world.

But if she saw him like this…

It was one thing to have her see him as a monster. But to see him _wearing_ the monster’s garb – that was something he’d hoped to avoid.

He grabbed a trash bag from under the kitchen sink on his way into Rey’s room. Her room smelled like her. Like sunshine and light and … _her_.

Her bed was unmade, and his lips twitched into an almost-smile at an untidy pile of dirty laundry tossed in the corner. Rey did not share Ben’s sense of fastidious tidiness … he loved that about her.

_I love you, Rey._

Why he’d come here and not gone back to the hotel, he still wasn’t sure. He knew there was a very strong likelihood of him being unwelcome here at Rey’s – although he knew Phasma wouldn’t mind. Phas was remarkably imperturbable when it came to things like blood or gore or nudity.

_Phasma saved your fucking life, Ben. They all did. Even Rey, when she went out there played … and then sat through the second half of that concert. After what you did. What you said to her._

Ben dragged his mind away from the things he’d said to Rey. At what he’d made her do.

The last time they’d spoken, he’d been unspeakably cruel to her. He’d ripped away her innocent illusions in so many ways, and he’d done it with cold, intentional precision.

_Does she hate me?_

She’d watched him commit cold-blooded murder. She’d listened to him as he’d made plans to do more. He’d emotionlessly confessed his sins, lied to her, and watched her heart break as he’d done it.

No matter how much he loved her, it would never change the fact that he was a killer. And he couldn’t stay away from her.

Ben paused.

The full realization of everything he’d done sank into him with demon’s teeth and monster’s claws. He’d willingly flung himself towards death, stood on the edge of that black, yawning abyss, and peered into its terrifying depths, knowing it would be his ultimate destiny.

In the space of two days, he’d sent dozens of people – many of whom he’d known well and worked with for years – into that same abyss.

And for what?

He’d tried to make it right, and it had only brought danger closer to her. _Too little, too late._

Snoke’s machinations were still reaching for Rey and his family from beyond the grave. _Maul. Grievous._ Snoke’s agents of death were here to destroy everything Ben had ever loved.

And it was all his fault.

 _You’re a fool, Ben Solo,_ whispered an evil voice in his head he knew would never fully leave him. _Still alone. At the end of the day, you’re nothing._

_And nothing is all you deserve from her._

His inheritance had only been a hellish landscape of pain and devastation. His legacy was worth less than nothing. And everything he now so desperately wanted was so far beyond the reach of his sins, he couldn’t imagine the quantity and purity of love and forgiveness it would take to wash those sins away.

_Will she hate that I’m here? In her room? Using her things? Will she hate me for hoping for … absolution? Mercy?_

He braced himself. _She will be here soon enough._

Whatever she confronted him with, he would face.

He stepped into her bathroom and gingerly removed his grime and blood-encrusted clothing, stuffing it all into the trash bag.

As he stripped, he absently noted the bruises and abrasions all over his body, mementos of war and his willingness to stare death in the face for her…

He’d long since become desensitized to the stench, having marinated in it for several days. But he imagined it was quite foul. He flipped the switch on the overhead fan and tied the trash bag tightly.

The worst part had been peeling off the clothes that had dried to his skin in some horrid facsimile of bloody glue. It was disgusting.

He was disgusting. Repellent. Monstrous.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Waves of nausea and disgust washed over him. He could never be worthy of someone like Rey.

She had to hate him. How could she not? And how dare he still hold a tiny grain of hope that she might, what? Love him? Want to share a life with him? What kind of life would that be?

Still. He loved her. And he’d promised himself – her – he would never give up again.

Even if he had to live out the rest of his days as the object of hatred by the one person he loved more than anyone, he would face her and hope for redemption.

 _Hope_. Such a stupid, pathetic thing.

Lost in that dark, miserable thought, Ben stepped into the scalding hot water of the shower and started scrubbing.

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t hear the front door to the apartment open.

 

On the way back home, Rey remained deadly-quiet, while Phasma eyed her and eventually simply said, “Rey. He’s there, but he might not … _be there_. He might not be himself. What he did. It takes a toll.”

Rey tore her thoughts away from Ben and tried to focus on what Phasma was trying to tell her. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t begin to imagine the physical and mental cost of what he just went through,” Phasma explained carefully. “He...had a very good chance of dying. And he knew it. I can imagine he’ll be … exhausted. And volatile. Probably in shock. And feeling very guilty. Angry. Defensive.”

 _Phasma’s trying to protect us_ , Rey realized. _She’s worried I’m going to say something to hurt him and he’ll lash out at me._

Rey nodded. Ben’s temper had never been reliable at the best of times. The chaos and trauma of the past few days would make him, if not dangerous, then at least hot-blooded. Unpredictable.

“I’m not mad at him. I love him. More than anyone. More than anything,” Rey stated baldly. Phasma stayed quiet, reading between the lines.

Rey knew Ben would never hurt her. But he wouldn’t know she had no intention of hurting him …

_He needs to know. I need to make him understand._

She willed the cab driver to hurry her closer to him.

 

When they finally got upstairs, Rey could hear the water running in her shower. Relief hit her so hard, she stumbled in her hurry to get to him, but Phasma grabbed her arm.

“Don’t. Um. Don’t make any sudden or threatening movements around him, okay?” she warned Rey in a low voice.

Rey blinked at her.

“You know Maul and Grievous are still a threat, right?” Phasma raised her eyebrows. “He’ll be on edge.”

 _Got it. My boyfriend is a highly trained killing machine._ _Don’t startle him. Or do anything to set him off._

Rey nodded, and Phasma turned around to leave. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“No offense, darling, but I have no intention of sticking around and listening to your, er, reunion,” Phasma grinned with the same knowing look she had on her face the day Rey met her. She winked at Rey and quietly closed the door behind her.

Rey stripped out of her coat and set the _Hammer’s_ case on the sofa. She crept into her room and stared at the bathroom door for the space of several heartbeats.

Although she knew how she felt, she had no idea how to confront the man she knew was in there, just beyond. Phasma seemed to think he would be like a dangerous animal, but Rey knew better. He would be like a dangerous, _wounded_ animal.

She stripped off her clothes, discarding them carelessly on the floor, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to her bathroom.

 

Her first thought when she saw him was that he’d lost weight. It had only been days, but between the time they’d made love Tuesday afternoon and now, he had to have lost at least ten pounds. Probably more like fifteen. She could see his ribs clearly under the layer of muscles. His hipbones were more pronounced, emphasizing the angular V that directed her eye right to his groin. She swept her eyes up to his face and noted the hollow leanness of his cheekbones.

Her second thought was that he looked … different. His eyes were horribly _different_. There was no filter, no mask in place. He was looking at her from the depths of himself and making no effort to hide it anymore. They held nothing but naked pain. It sliced into her like a knife, that pain.

Her third thought was – _holy shit_ – he was holding an _actual_ knife, obviously intending to defend himself from anyone who came wandering in. _In the shower? Phasma hadn’t been kidding._

Remembering what Phasma said, Rey moved carefully to close the bathroom door behind her. She held his eyes with hers and approached slowly, but purposefully.

She didn’t say a word as she opened the glass shower door and stepped in with him.

He stared at her with eyes filled to the brim with unbound suffering. And something else. Some kind of pleading entreaty underneath it all that ripped her heart wide open.

Rey faced him and gently took the knife from his hand. It was heavier than she’d expected it would be. She set it on the tiled shelf in the shower.

“ _Ben_ ,” she whispered. Just his name. But she put every ounce of love and compassion and forgiveness into that one word. Everything she had.

The water poured over him in steaming rivulets and ran down her hand as she placed it carefully on his cheek.

“Rey,” he said in a surprisingly normal voice. “Did you come here to forgive me? To save my soul? It’s too late.”

But, she understood her role in this moment, and it was no game. It was a matter of life and death, and she was going to pull him from the abyss herself if it took everything she had. This man needed her complete and total forgiveness, compassion, and surrender. Or he would never forgive himself. And that would be devastating. For both of them.

“Ben.” The second time she said it seemed to wake him from his reverie of despair.

How would she make him accept that part of himself that he so obviously hated and wished he could cut away? That dark side?

Because she’d fallen in love with the whole man, not just the sweet side who played piano like a dream or the talented genius or the tender, passionate lover.

“Do you honestly think I’m not strong enough to forgive you, Ben?” she replied. “Do you think I’m not strong enough to love all of you?”

He blinked, astonishment written clearly across his face as he processed her words. It seemed to take him a minute to realize she was naked.

“Ben. I need you. The dark and the light. I love you,” Rey said intently. She had never been more serious. “I would die for you.”

“No,” he said hoarsely, finally waking up at her last words. “No.” Something not pain-filled or pleading flickered behind his eyes. Something hot and possessive. Primitive and violent.

Rey wished she was taller, so she could look him in the eye. Instead, she grabbed his hair and pulled it until his head was an inch away from hers. She was not gentle.

“Don’t tell me how to love you, Ben Solo,” she hissed at him before planting her lips on his.

His hot mouth clung to hers in a moment of stunned surprise, until, with rapacious ferocity, he slid his tongue between her lips and _took_.

He moved his hands to her waist, roughly pulling her into him with a ragged groan.

And then she yanked his hair so hard he grunted. It couldn’t have hurt any more than the dozen or so bruises mottling his arms and chest. She didn’t care if it did.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping his wet hair roughly and scraping her teeth just under his ear. She rubbed her breasts against his chest and arched her hips into him.

She could feel the hot weight of his burgeoning erection pressing against her belly, and she gasped at how badly she wanted him. There would be time for slow, sweet lovemaking later. But for now, Rey didn’t need a soft, gentle reunion.

“You can have whatever you want, Ben,” she whispered into his mouth, staring at him unflinchingly. “I’ve told you before. I’m yours.”

 

Ben felt a rush of lust pour into him like a drug. He wanted nothing more than to test the truth of her words.

She looked serious enough. He didn’t get the sense she was lying. But, she should rightfully be pissed at him. Not just for the things he’d said and done to her before he’d left, but for leaving her. Why wasn’t she screaming and throwing things?

If she wanted to attack him, he would let her. Physically, she was no match for him. He towered over her by a good eight inches and even after the last few days, he still outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. He could break her so easily.

But if she wanted to hurt him, punish him, he deserved it. _Why didn’t she?_

She bit him softly and yanked his hair. And then he understood.

He felt a tendril of darkness slither through him and instead of pushing it away as he instinctively would have… he freed it.

He slid his hands down to grip her behind, fingers digging into her flesh like claws. She scraped her teeth against his neck again and moaned, “I’m yours.”

He spun them around until she was the one standing under the shower spray. He watched the warm water turned the slopes and curves of her into a wet, slippery wonderland. She met his eyes, matching his passion.

 _We’re the same_ , he thought in awe, even as a shadow of darkness snaked through him.

He swept a hand over her shoulder, down to cup a softly rounded breast, then over her flat belly, smooth hips, and silky thigh.

He didn’t ask for permission to touch her because he didn’t need it.

“This is mine,” he stated possessively, taking in the softness of her skin, the contrast of the fine texture against his dark, war-roughened hand.

“Yes,” she agreed, letting her hands fall from his shoulders to hang loosely at her sides.

The water from the shower plastered her hair to her head, drawing his attention to the length of her eyelashes and delicate bone structure of her face. She looked like an angel.

The water was beginning to grow cool and her nipples puckered at the change in temperature. Ben grasped her arms and leaned in to suck roughly on one, then the other.

“Mine?” he wasn’t really asking. His tongue slid out to lick at her and his eyes smoldered into hers.

She clutched at his shoulders and groaned. “Yes.”

His hand skated over her wet skin and landed between her legs. He pushed a finger between her thighs and felt the slick texture of her evident desire.

_Oh, I know that’s all mine…_

A pleasant-painful throb of wanton need ripped through his guts like shrapnel.

“Hang on to me,” he commanded, picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. The soft skin of her inner thighs sliding against him made him painfully hard.

He felt her breathing hitch, and he watched her cheeks flush as she stared at him with unbridled longing.

“You want this,” he stated aggressively, not bothering to wait for an answer. He kissed her violently, and the way she opened to him told him everything he needed to know.

Her mouth was warm, welcoming and he greedily pushed his tongue in. _Mine._

She kissed him back and moaned into him.

He slid a hand between them and grabbed his throbbing erection, pumping it up and down in his fist, rubbing a thumb over the leaking tip.

“You want this,” he growled at her, bracing her back against the tiled shower wall with one arm as she rode against his slightly bent thighs.

“I do want it,” she murmured.

_Mine._

He whispered into her ear, “I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.” His teeth pulled at her earlobe and her heated breath on his neck was nothing less than incendiary.

Her arms gripped him by the shoulders, and as her hands pushed against his scrapes and bruises from lugging guns and ammunition and god-knew-what-else twenty miles through a forest in Siberia… he paused.

Rey arched her chest into his, the water from the rapidly cooling shower increasing the slide of her flesh on his. She kissed a particularly painful bruise on his sternum from where he’d been kicked when he killed…

She seemed to notice he’d paused and grasped his chin in a warm little hand.

“I’m not begging you to stop, yet,” she murmured, calling him back, dragging him from his recent memories.

He buried his face into the side of her neck and guided his aching hardness into the embrace of her wet, silky heat.

And then all he could do was feel her tight, clutching body stretch around him, accepting him, connecting with him…

_I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel this again._

He thrust home and they both groaned loudly at the exquisite pleasure of sharing each other’s bodies.

He slid out and adjusted her hips, lifting her a bit so her back was pressed more firmly against the wall.

Fire shot through him when he pushed in again. Her legs trembled around him, her feet pressing into his lower back, hands seizing painfully at his bruised shoulders.

He didn’t care.

She was remaking him, re-branding those bruises on his flesh into something else. Something new.

His legs quaked as he began pumping into her and kissing her until his heart felt like it would explode. Her passion for him was clear in every line of her body wrapped around his, in the heated drag of her flesh around his cock, the flushed skin on her face and chest, the dance of her tongue against his.

He gripped her hips roughly, dragging her onto him with explicit ownership, as she gazed at him through half-lowered lids, mouth wet and open, legs spread just for him…

“You’re mine, Rey,” he snarled at her, working her body over his with his large, powerful hands.

The angle was so good, and her breasts were right there, bouncing gently as he took her. He bowed his head and sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue as he stroked the slippery-wet haven between her legs with his throbbing erection. 

“Ben,” she groaned. “Yes.”

_You’re not alone. She’s right here with you._

The urge to consume and attack overwhelmed him. And instead of reigning it in, he let it loose. Because he could.

Because he knew nothing he could do to her would break her or her love for him.

“Hang on,” he said for the second time as he gripped her tightly around him and turned around. There was no way he was finishing this under the now freezing cold shower.

He slipped out of her as he walked them into her room and she cried out in frustration.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you," Ben promised. 

They were both dripping wet, and he didn’t give a shit.

He threw her onto her messy bed and followed her down, climbing over her until they were eye to eye. He was straddling one leg and he ran a hand up the wet length of her other leg, bending it up to expose the swollen, flushed lips of her sex.

“Ben,” she whispered. “Please.”

He pushed his rigid length into her without preamble and reveled in her soft scream. That sound belonged to him, and he wanted to hear it again.

He dragged himself out of her and her body clung to his with a clenching pull. She didn’t want him to leave her.

He rolled off her leg and pushed her legs up, bending her almost in half, gripped her hands in his, pinning them to either side of her head, and slid into her tight, hot body with the inexorable force of an avalanche.

She screamed again, and he plundered her mouth with his tongue and felt her body gripping him as he snapped his hips into her with crushing blows. And she met every thrust with a hot, welcoming pulse of her hips against his.

He pushed back in and claimed her in the most primitive way he could. He’d gone to battle for her. He’d made it back. And now he was taking his reward, the spoils of war.

That dark thought unraveled through him and he sucked a mark into the side of her neck, branding her. She clenched around him and moaned encouragement.

_She wants this. She needs this as much as I do._

He pinned her hands further into the mattress and redoubled his efforts to mark her as his.

The harder he went, the softer and hotter she became. She matched him stroke for stroke, and every moan he gave her was returned with interest, every bead of sweat, every push of breath against his mouth, until their hearts were thundering together, bodies tensing toward the inevitable.

“Ben,” she whispered. “Please.”

He released her hands, so he could slide his arms under her and get her closer. He wanted to bury himself so deep in her she would never know the feeling of being without him again.

She clenched around him, and he changed the tempo, slowing down just a fraction.

_I love you._

“I love you,” he said out loud, shifting himself so he could see her face.

A tear slid from her eye and she clutched his hair. “I know you do,” she murmured. “I love you, too, Ben.”

He kissed that tear, reveling in the salty taste because it belonged to him, too…

“You’re everything. _Everything_ ,” he told her, grasping her hair and forcing her face up to meet his for an earth-shattering kiss as he rocked his hips into her.

He shared his breath with her because she was his and she belonged to him and she loved him.

Everything in that moment became a blur of hot skin sliding, gasping breaths, sweat dripping, tangled hair, and the lustful drag and draw of their bodies pounding to a blistering-hot climax.

His heart was hammering out of his chest when he felt that tight, hot pressure of her body compressing around his, the sweet sounds of her sobbing his name, and the grip of her clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in her universe.

He would never get enough of watching her fall apart in his arms. The sight pulled him in with her and he gasped at the devastating pleasure she wrung from him. He came with a shout of rapture and a series of agonizing hot spurts, as he surrendered to her with everything he had.

And for an infinitesimal moment in time, he felt … immortal … untouchable … and he knew she was right there with him. _Belonging._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd be finishing this up soon, and I'm sorry to have added another chapter to this story - I know we've got a lot going on and need to wrap it up! :)
> 
> However. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it would be terribly unfair to not have a full chapter dedicated to Ben and Rey's reunion. 
> 
> After everything they've been through, I think they deserve it.
> 
> You all have been awesome and amazing through all of this, and I adore each and every one of you!
> 
> XOXO,  
> Amy B.


	37. Chopin, Nocturne No. 20 in C-sharp Minor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben's back.

Ben woke with a start late Friday morning. He was a bit disoriented from the travel and from everything before and after. _After…_

He glanced over to Rey’s sleeping form and his heart contracted just a bit. He’d done everything he could to make good on his vow... he hadn’t managed to get her to beg him to stop. But he hadn’t really wanted to.

He smiled at her soft, somewhat unladylike snoring. _I wore her out, though..._

He hovered over her for a few seconds, taking in the warmth of her body in repose, her breathing, the light flowing through the curtains highlighting the dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks – all of it.

He kissed the soft shoulder peeking out from the top of the twisted sheet then carefully pulled it around her, straightening the fabric in a gentle, caring act that he never thought he’d have the opportunity to perform again.

It was a bit overwhelming to love someone so much. And to know she loved him back.

_I'm so fucking lucky._

His stomach growled, and he realized he was famished.

He stood and went to find something to wear, sure he’d left some clothes around when he heard the front door open and shut. Loudly. Footsteps. Low voices. _Phasma? And who else?_

Every instinct he had snapped into full alert as he realized he had no weapons – everything of Phasma’s he’d taken to Russia had been left on his jet, and his Ka-Bar was still sitting on the shelf in the shower.

“Ben?” Luke called to him from the other room. _Why is Luke here?_

He ignored every pull and ache in his muscles from his exertions over the past few days. He had just whipped a towel around his waist when the bedroom door opened and Phasma poked her platinum blonde head in.

“Get out here,” was all she said, as she tossed a bundle of clothes at his chest. Her tone of voice told him something was wrong.

Ben glanced back at Rey, who was out cold, and he hurried to throw on the clothes Phasma had brought him.

_These aren’t street clothes_ , Ben realized, although the black tactical pants and shirt would pass at a glance. A pair of military boots in his size waited for him just outside the door.

_Something’s happened. Something bad._

He snatched up the boots and walked into the living room to see Luke, Poe Dameron, and Phasma seated on the sofas there.

“Ben, sit down,” Luke said. Ben sat and yanked socks then the boots on, lacing them up with swift, practiced movements.

“They know, Ben,” Phasma said quietly.

“ _They_ know what?” Ben asked, dread crawling into his chest. Every system in his body went from vague alarm to high alert as he finished tying the laces with a sharp tug.

For some reason, every eye in the room seemed riveted to that movement. As if nobody wanted to talk.

“What happened?” He muttered, then turning sharply, he jabbed a hostile finger at Poe and snarled, “Why aren’t you guarding my mother?”

Poe paled a bit but met Ben’s eyes. “She’s on a plane – your jet, actually – headed to London. Only thing we could think of to get her out of here quickly and safely.”

“Maul and Grievous know something’s up,” Phasma continued. “After I dropped off Rey last night, I went … hunting.”

“What?” Ben snapped at her. “Why the fuck would you do that, Phas?”

Phasma’s eyes turned that cold, metallic shade of blue Ben recognized as her own murderous brand of arctic fury. “Because I needed to know what they were doing, _Ren._ You would have done the same thing. And you should be on your hands and knees thanking me for doing what I did, otherwise, we wouldn’t have known a damn thing.”

Ben swallowed his anger. She was right. Probably.

_Fuck._

His stomach growled loudly, and he stood abruptly, going to the fridge. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday on the jet. And he would need some calories for what he now knew was coming. _More fighting. More killing._  

_Dammit. What do I do about Rey? And Luke?_

“Keep talking,” he ordered, as he grabbed a carton of eggs and tossed a few slices of bread into the toaster oven.

Luke stood and came into the kitchen. “When’s the last time you ate, kid?”

“Yesterday,” Ben admitted. “A few protein bars …” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Go talk with them. I’ll help... I can make you some food.” Luke opened the egg carton and grabbed a bowl from the bottom cupboard.

Ben paused, looking at his uncle, _really_ looking at him for the first time in years. He looked older. The same, but little more wrinkled. A little grayer. A bit more…faded, somehow. “You have already helped, Uncle Luke. Plus, you can’t cook for shit.” Ben offered his uncle a small, conciliatory smile.

“I think I can handle scrambling some eggs and making toast,” Luke grinned at him, taking the carton and cracking eggs into the bowl. “How many?” he asked.

“Six,” Ben replied. “And coffee,” he added, turning back to the living room to talk with Phasma and Poe. “Please. And thank you.”

He hoped his uncle would understand the _thank you_ was for so much more than cooking him some food. 

By the time Rey shuffled out of the bedroom wearing leggings and an old t-shirt of Ben’s, Phasma had managed to fill in Ben on the essential information.

Luke had just handed him a huge plate of scrambled eggs, toast with peanut butter on it, and a fork.

“Eat,” his uncle commanded sternly, although he winked at him.

_Luke understands. That's something._

Ben didn’t need to be told twice, and he dug in.

 

Rey sat down next to Ben, who began methodically shoveling eggs into his mouth. She curled into his side and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Grievous and Maul suspect something’s going on with Ren, seeing as he’s been gone for the past two days and Snoke hasn’t contacted them,” Phasma told her. “I followed Maul last night and he went to the Ukrainian ambassador’s hotel. He wasn’t there long, but it’s all over the papers this morning. The ambassador is dead.”

“Oh,” Rey whispered. Ben continued studiously eating his eggs, but she felt him tense.

Luke added, “If Poe hadn’t suspected something was off last night, he wouldn’t have gotten Leia out in time. We didn’t have time to get Rey or anyone else to the jet and out of the country. Although Holdo has been working on quietly warning the ambassadors to beef up their security protocols since Hux’s spy network was deactivated.”

“They aren’t … back? Hux’s spies?” Rey asked, trying to understand all of the moving pieces.

“No,” Phasma said confidently. “Holdo put her sources to good use and was able to get a team together to go over Lincoln Center with a fine-tooth comb. It’s good she did, too, since Maul and Grievous were apparently rigging the place for _Novichok._ Although they didn’t actually find any, the other signs were pretty obvious.”

“Nerve gas,” Ben said quietly at Rey’s questioning look. “Deadly stuff. Really bad.”

Phasma nodded. “They won’t be able to use it at the concert tomorrow night… but now we’re onto them, and... I'm sure they are executing Order 66…”

“We don’t know where they are… or where they’ll be…” Rey finished.

“Not exactly,” Phasma said. “Which is why we are going to try to draw them out. Today.”

Ben slammed his plate onto the table and barked, “No. No _fucking_ way, Phas.”

Phasma gave him a sharp look and hissed, “This is about more than just you, Ben. Or her.” She nodded at Rey. Rey felt a cold chill slither through her. Phasma was right, but that didn’t make the situation any less scary.

“What do you mean _draw them out_?” Rey whispered.

Luke interrupted her question with a suggestion. “Why not invite a few people to dress rehearsal for an early sneak peek at the concert.  Some of Holdo's people pretending to be ambassadors? I’ll be there, too… it could be tempting?"

“No. That won’t work,” Phasma said emphatically, but not unkindly, “They won’t fall for it – they’ll smell a trap from a mile away. Ren and I need to try to get them _today_ , lure them to dress rehearsal, no tricks. The both of us there together will be plenty tempting. If we don’t pull it off, we’ll have to try at the concert tomorrow. Let them think it will be like shooting fish in a barrel…”

“What about the nerve gas?” Rey asked. “We don't know where it is. What if they use it?”

“I don’t think they will try the gas if they think they can get away with sniper rifles or – ”

“You don’t fucking know that for sure, Phasma. This is all based on a hunch, and I won’t fucking put her – or anyone else – in danger,” Ben snarled angrily.

Rey heard the same tone of voice from Ben as she’d heard a few nights ago and a knot of fear solidified in the pit of her stomach. _You have no idea who the fuck I am._

“Which is why you’re wearing tactical gear, Ren. Fuck. _Pay attention. You and I are going hunting._ The concert is our last resort. We can hope they show up today and try to take them out, or we can be ready for them tomorrow and try to do it with thousands of innocent people there... Or we can wait indefinitely for them to pick us all off one by one.”

“Doing it today won’t do any fucking good if we tip them off and they go to ground. Then they’ll take out those diplomats, regardless, and come for Rey, and Mother, and Luke,” Ben growled. “And we don’t know where that _Novichok_ is – that’s not exactly something we should leave lying around in the hands of animals like Grievous or Maul, and you fucking know it.”

His temper was furnace-hot. Rey could feel the coiled tension in him. She put her hand on his arm.

It took a few seconds for Ben to realize he wasn’t alone. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tightly – too tightly – into his side.

“It’s too dangerous, Rey, and I’m not risking you, not after everything,” he spoke to her only, and Rey could see a world of fear in his dark eyes.

“If we can’t get to them before the concert tomorrow night, we could still consider canceling it, right?” Poe asked.

Luke and Poe nodded together, but Ben and Phasma just glared at each other.

“No,” Ben and Phasma said together.

Luke shook his head, “This is not going to go the way you think...”

**Dress Rehearsal –**

After more heated arguing, Ben reluctantly agreed he would go with Phasma's plan on the condition Poe would swear on his life and his good eyesight he’d watch over Rey.

“No matter what, Dameron,” Ben reminded him again. “If anything happens to her…”

“I know, I know, you’ll hunt me down. Pain, slaughter, death. I get it. Jeez.” Poe was flippant, and Ben glared at him until Poe said, more seriously this time, “She’ll be safe. I won’t let her out of my sight. I swear to God, Solo.”

They stood just backstage at Lincoln Center, having made their arrival extremely obvious to anyone who might have been watching.

Other than a few minutes of passionate kisses and whispers to each other right before they left the apartment, Ben and Rey had barely had a chance to speak. And after everything that had happened the night before...

_I just need more time,_ Ben thought to himself. _I've already wasted so much._

Ben hoped Maul and Grievous were off plotting somewhere or tracking down some of the other diplomats on their kill list. He knew it was selfish, but he just wanted one more day. With her.

But he didn’t think he could be that lucky twice in a row, especially after his narrow escape from Russia. Three times, if he counted his amazing good fortune in Rey’s forgiving nature… he glanced at her standing quietly by his side, holding the _Hammer_ in its case.

He had draped his dress coat over his military-style clothing, giving the appearance of showing up to conduct for dress rehearsal. The small group of them had entered the building from the side stage entrance, and once they were just inside, Ben dragged Rey to the backstage dressing room immediately.

He would spend every possible minute with her, even it was just while he finished getting ready.  

Phasma followed behind Poe Dameron, who was dressed casually as if he were a stagehand. They crammed into the dressing room and Ben and Phasma shed their exterior disguises. Underneath her dress coat, Phasma wore similar clothing to Ben's.

The two used black face paint and donned balaclavas. With the paint to cover the exposed skin around their eyes, they would be practically invisible in the dimly-lit building.

They were also weighted down with an impressive assortment of weapons Phasma had taken from Ben’s cache earlier, along with the clothing he now wore.

_Fair is fair. I raided her stash, she raided mine,_ Ben mused, reminding himself to ask her how she knew where it was. _Later._

He was glad he had snatched up his Ka-Bar when he'd exited his jet... it was the closest thing to a personal good luck charm he owned, now that Rey's notebook was stashed away somewhere. _I wish I had that little book._ He'd carried that notebook around with him for years. It had been the closest thing to a religion he'd ever believed in. 

He wished he’d grabbed his Last Will and Testament, too, instead of leaving it onboard the jet in his haste to get to Rey.

_I hope Mother doesn’t read that…_

Rey clutched the _Hammer_ to her chest as she watched him paint his face, check his weapons, and finally chug down a little bottle of energy drink Phasma had silently handed him before slipping out the door, snagging Poe Dameron’s shoulder on the way out.

“Let’s give them a minute,” he heard Phasma mutter before the door shut closed, leaving him alone with Rey.

The ugly clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, each little click thundering as loudly as a kettle drum.

He stared at her, and every moment of the previous night flashed before his eyes. Each kiss, each touch had been a song in his veins. Every passionate sound she had made had been sweet music to his ears. 

Ben looked into her beautiful eyes and wished he had all the time in the world to tell her… everything. But he realized he would never have enough time.

Eternity would not be long enough for him to explain how desperately he loved her. How she would be forever a part of him. Always.

He couldn't say a word.

She seemed to understand.

She reached out her hand, placing it on his cheek. He felt the heat of her through the thin fabric of the mask he wore, and it sank into his soul, warming that once-lonely place with light and love.

“Come back to me, Ben,” she murmured.

He gripped her hand, pressing it into his face, and vowed simply, “I promise.”

Then, before he lost his resolve, he stepped out the door, moving like a deadly shadow into the darkness.


	38. Paganini, Caprice No. 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finale...

From his position on the catwalks above the stage, Ben heard his uncle announce to the players that Maestro Ren was recovering from strep throat and, while he couldn’t make dress rehearsal, he would be well enough to perform tomorrow.

Ben felt a strange mixture of guilt and gratitude to hear murmurs of concern and hopes for his full recovery from several members of the group.

He watched Luke and Rey exchange glances. _Fuck, I hope this plan of Phasma’s doesn’t get anyone killed…_

In the meantime, for dress rehearsal, they would play through the Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto with Luke on the piano and Rey conducting. _Just for the rehearsal_ , Ben hoped.

Ben was impressed when he realized his uncle would play the _Rach Two_ – he didn’t realize Luke still played piano seriously enough to be able to perform that piece without extensive preparation.

Ben was curious to hear how Luke Skywalker would interpret it.

However, Rey stood at the front of the stage, for now, as she would first perform Sibelius. Ben willed himself not to get distracted by her, as he scanned the hall for signs of unwanted company.

So far, there had been no sign of Maul or Grievous, and Ben hoped they would stay away. He was still vaguely pissed off at Phasma for insisting on trying to draw them here, to Lincoln Center, when they could have just as easily tried a different tactic, even if it wouldn’t have been as effective.

He hated the idea of using his uncle and especially Rey as bait. Again.

Luring Maul and Grievous to Lincoln Center was risky, even if it was the best way to get them pinned down.

 _Maybe they won’t show._ _I might just get lucky three times in a row,_ he thought. _Maybe my stars have finally changed…_

Ben was pleased to note Poe Dameron hovering near the stage, just off to the side of Rey’s position. Dameron appeared to be focused on adjusting some sound equipment, and he looked like he belonged there.

_Good. And Phasma’s canvassing the front entrances. Once all is clear, we’ll meet backstage to sweep through again._

The building was fully locked down, not that any of the members of the orchestra knew. A locked door would not keep Maul or Grievous out, but it would hopefully prevent innocent trespassers from wandering through.

The opening strains of music filtered through the hall, and Ben prowled silently through his pre-planned route.

Over the next forty minutes, he saw no sign of Phasma, not that he expected to.

When Rey had finished playing the concerto, Ben was sure to hide backstage, as he knew there would be some shuffling around as Luke would take position at the piano, which sat on a slightly raised dais center stage.

 

After performing the Sibelius, Rey took up the conductor’s baton with shaking hands and hope in her heart, readying herself to conduct the orchestra through the Rachmaninoff _Piano Concerto Number Two_.

If everything went according to plan, she would watch Ben play the piece tomorrow night while Luke Skywalker conducted. _That will be a sight to see_ , she thought. Their styles were so different, and yet she couldn’t help but think they would somehow work well together.

Despite the scarcity of words spoken aloud, she had said everything she needed to say to Ben, earlier in the dressing room. _And last night._

She’d meant it when she’d told him she loved him, the dark and the light. She’d meant it when she said she would die for him.

It was a very different feeling from her near-hysteria over the past few days. Either Ben would come back to her, or he wouldn’t… but she had to believe he would. He’d promised.

But, maybe she would die. Or maybe they would both survive this and have an amazing life together, the one she had envisioned before… The future was beyond her control. She had to let go of her fear.

Once she accepted this, she felt at peace.  _Hope is like the sun_ , Leia had once told her. _If you only believe it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night._

At this point in her life, she was grateful for the moments she’d had with Ben. She hoped to have many more if that was her fate.

She had to let go. Because there was nothing else she could do.

She knew Ben was out there somewhere in the building with Phasma, seeking out the evil men who intended to kill them…

Rey recalled Phasma telling her the Sibelius concerto was one of her all-time favorites. She hoped Phas had been able to hear it from wherever she was in the building.

Rey thought about the other things Phasma had told her. Particularly about the brutal, sadistic men now hunting them, the men who had trained both Ben and Phasma in the arts of war.

Men who had broken them down to nothing and rebuilt the people she loved into killers. Rey’s stomach turned as she remembered the things Phasma had told her. The evil things those men had done, their sick training regime, all of it.

And she hoped Ben or Phas would rid the world of those animals, Maul and Grievous, once and for all.

The world was an ugly enough place without monsters like that roaming it.

But the world could also be a very beautiful place. She would choose love over hate. Hope over fear. No matter what.

Rey tapped the baton on the stand, glanced at Luke, who was seated at the piano and swept her hand into the graceful opening notes of the _Rach Two_.

She never even felt the malignant gaze crawling over her at that very moment.

 

As he prowled through the building on his way to backstage, and Ben heard his uncle begin the _Rach Two._

He couldn’t help but listen intently as Luke Skywalker played it like a true master. Luke’s playing was clean and elegant, devoid of needless flourishes and deceptively precise.

Ben knew his uncle was following the score down to the smallest detail, exactly has it had been written.

Where Ben would have attacked the piece with the force of a thunderbolt, Luke caressed the notes with the softest of touches.

Ben would have emptied his anger and despair into the performance until it was practically unrecognizable, a song of futile hopelessness, a desperately sad declaration of pain. But Luke played it as if it were the sweetest benediction a soul could be offered, somehow emanating compassion and forgiveness. An apology, but a different kind of apology than the one Ben had offered to Rey earlier in the week.

_Is that the true score? Was that the composer’s original intent? Hope? Not anguish?_

The music Luke played. It was … full of peace. And purpose.

_I never knew Luke could play like that… it’s… amazing._

As Luke’s music poured through the hall, Ben felt a lightness of spirit he hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

They were halfway through the Rachmaninoff before Ben sensed something was off.

He had been hovering backstage, waiting for Phasma to meet him, when he glimpsed the slightest of movements from behind the stage curtain. It was just a flicker – the briefest of twitches of the curtain that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t looking for it.

And with all his years of training and practice, he knew that movement did not belong there.

He also knew if it was either one of his old teachers, he was meant to see that motion... Because neither one of them would ever be so careless to let him see it accidentally.

_A trap._

 

Maul and Grievous would have realized instantly something was wrong when neither Ben nor Phasma appeared onstage for rehearsal. So, it was now a game of cat-and-mouse.

When Ben saw the trap, he knew he had to make a choice. He could either take the bait and likely get himself killed… or he could figure out where the other one was and hope whoever was behind that curtain didn’t have a gun trained on Luke or Rey.

_Fuck. They’re both here._

Because there was no way this particular trap would be sprung by just one of his old teachers. Maul and Grievous had taught them all the Rule of Two, of tracking and hunting in pairs, as well as how to track and hunt alone…

There were advantages to both, Ben knew, and he also knew if they had the opportunity to pair up, they would.

Which meant if they both got to him at the same time, he was dead. And so was everyone else.

Maul’s voice crept into his head. _Who’s coming for you?_

No. Stop it. _I am not alone._

The curtain twitched again, just barely, and Ben knew time was running out. Whoever was trying to draw him out wouldn’t wait forever.

_Where’s Phas? Did they get to her already?_

He slipped back into the shadows, invisible, and went for option two…

 

They had just reached the key change to B-flat major in the last section, the _Allegro scherzando_ when Rey heard a piercing scream and a hoarse, anguished cry from backstage.

_Ben._

Rey had never heard him make that sound before, had never heard anyone make a tormented sound like that. She instantly dropped the baton and bolted backstage.

_No._

She heard Poe jump onto the stage behind her and Luke shout, “Wait!” and then, “Everybody stay in your seats!” but she was already past the curtains and running to Ben.

He crouched on the floor over Phasma who was sucking in deep gasps of air. They both looked quite grim.

Two bodies lay nearby, one grotesquely garroted – his neck severed so deeply that the head lay twisted at a stark, unnatural angle. The other body had the hilt of Ben’s Ka-Bar sticking out of its neck.

Rey froze at the gruesome sight, but Poe whipped out his phone and was already dialing 911 when Ben shouted again, “Help!”

In a daze, she heard Poe tell the operator to send an ambulance to the backstage entrance of Lincoln Center immediately. His muffled conversation became a backdrop for Phasma’s ragged breathing.

Ben straddled her, pressing down on her leg, the inside of her upper thigh, so hard the tendons in his neck pulled and strained.

“Nicked an artery, I think,” Phasma whispered. “Fucker got me. But not before I got him… hope it's …hope it's okay I borrowed your knife, Ren.”

“Phas,” Ben muttered. “Don’t talk. Help is on the way. Just stay with me.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Phas murmured. “They were always scum. Weren’t they Ren? _No. Wait_. Should call you _Ben_.”

“Call me whatever you want, Phas, just fucking stay with me,” Ben grunted, still pressing on her leg. “Rey’s here, look.”

Rey crouched down on the other side of Phasma, and said shakily, “Hey, Phas.”

“His real name is Ben,” Phasma told Rey seriously. Her blue eyes, usually so bright and piercing, were beginning to cloud over. “He’s your friend. _Read that somewhere…_ ”

“Yes,” whispered Rey brokenly. “He's your friend, too. So am I.”

Phasma smiled softly and her eyes fluttered closed.

_"My real name’s Jenny.”_

 

They spent the night in the waiting room at the hospital. Rey was resting in the chair next to Ben's, head leaned into his shoulder. Neither one of them could sleep, although they knew Phasma would be in surgery for hours and hours.

Ben knew there was a good chance she wouldn’t make it. Even if she did, she likely wouldn’t be allowed visitors. The doctor had warned them she would likely be unable to receive visitors for a couple of days. Nevertheless, Ben, Rey, Poe, and Luke all waited for news.

They couldn’t just leave her alone. Not after everything she’d done.

Ben stared at the floor, arm around Rey, lost in thought. Every few minutes, as if to assure himself they were still alive, that Rey was there, he would kiss the top of her head.

He couldn't take his mind off how close Rey had come to being killed... 

Ben had found Grievous, the unseen part of the trap, lying in wait for him behind Maul’s position near the curtain. By the time he’d circled around with his garrote, Maul had grown impatient.

Nothing could have prepared Ben for the terror he felt at the sight of Maul raising his gun to the stage. Maul was aiming for Rey, and Ben was already in position behind Grievous with a garrote wire in his hands.

Grievous had tensed, sensing someone behind him, and Ben reacted instinctively, wrapping the wire around his former teacher’s neck and pulling and twisting as hard as he could before Grievous could slip out of the deadly embrace.

Ben gave the wire a vicious yank and felt a hand slip his Ka-Bar out of the sheath at his side.

_Phasma._

She smoothly stepped in front of Ben when Maul turned at the sound of Grievous’s body falling to the ground, Ben still twisting the garrote wire savagely, kneeling behind him.

If Ben let go now, Grievous could still get out of his chokehold.

Time slowed to a standstill and Ben watched as Maul turned, pointing his gun at Phasma.

But instead of shooting, Maul whipped a wicked-looking dagger through the air with his other hand.

The moment his blade hit Phasma in the inside of her upper thigh, Phas hurled the Ka-Bar into Maul’s throat.

It had been a masterful shot.

 

Rey fell asleep after two in the morning. Luke had been dozing, chin on his chest, since midnight. _He’s older. He’s had a helluva time._

Ben watched as Poe Dameron, still awake, pulled his buzzing cell phone from his jacket pocket and answer it quietly. Dameron appeared to listen for a minute.

Ben listened to Dameron tell the caller where he was. Their eyes met solemnly.

“Your mother will be here in the morning,” Poe said simply. “She wants to see you.”

Ben’s breath froze in his chest. His first instinct was to leave immediately. He didn’t think he could handle talking to her after so much time. After he’d done so many bad things…

Guilt swamped through him.

Poe went on, not finished with his message to Ben, “She’s bringing Amilyn Holdo with her. She says Holdo wants to talk to you and… her.”

Clearly, Poe was referring to Phasma. No. _Jenny._

And Leia was bringing Holdo. As in Amilyn Holdo, Director of Homeland Security. _Fuck._ They were probably going to throw his ass in a high-security prison for his crimes and never let him see daylight again.

Ben fought an even stronger urge to wake Rey and run for it.

But.

He couldn’t leave his friend behind, fighting for her life on some operating room table while he scampered away to live out his days on some remote island… No.

Ben would stay and face the music.

He stared at Rey, resting against him, still asleep.

 _Justice will be served. I’ve gotten more than I ever deserved out of this life. So much more than I ever could have hoped for_ …

And yet he still wanted more.

“Why are you telling me?” Ben finally asked Dameron, a gruff accusatory tone slipping into his voice. “Giving me a chance to escape before they try to arrest me?”

Poe looked at him for a long time before he finally said quietly, “No. To give you a spark of hope. I think Holdo has a proposal for you. For you both.”

 

Before Leia and Holdo had arrived at the hospital, early the next day, Ben had finally succumbed to sleep, leaning his head on Rey’s, an arm wrapped around her, and a resolute will to face his punishment.

 _Whatever Holdo proposes,_ _I’ve been through worse. I can get through whatever comes next._

He woke to a gentle kiss on the forehead and knew instantly it was his mother. He opened his eyes and stared into hers – so familiar, so like his own – and murmured, “Hi, Mom.”

 

**Final Concert of the New York Philharmonic Spring Series**

After Ben’s performance of the _Rach Two_ , under the direction of Maestro Luke Skywalker, the audience was still roaring, stomping their feet, and whipped into a frenzy.

Ben had never played music like that before in his life. But his anger had evaporated and there was no well of pain from which to draw upon anymore.

He had Rey to thank for that. And his mother. And so many others…

His mother and Director Holdo had spoken with him for well over an hour, and Ben had mostly listened. The more they told him, the more his heart lifted…

Holdo had made her proposal to him after a few pointed questions. And Ben had readily agreed to it. All of it.

But right now, Rey was waiting for him just offstage, and he only had eyes for her.

He almost sprinted offstage in order to get to her. She was waiting for him with a huge smile and glowing eyes, still holding the _Hammer_.

Ben shook his head at her. She wouldn’t have taken the time to put it in its case if it meant she might miss even a second of his performance… and since this concert had no planned intermission, she must have simply exited the stage after her performance and waited and watched quietly while he played.

Just as she’d always done.

Ben felt a buzz at his hip and knew it was Poe contacting him. Poe had stayed behind at the hospital to keep Phasma, no, _Jenny_ , company. Ben’s heart lurched.

He looked at the screen and saw Poe’s text: _She’s going to be okay. She has a request for you..._

“What?” Rey asked, knowing it was about their friend.

Ben looked at his phone for a long minute before he showed his phone to Rey.

 _…play the_ Hammer _. Do an encore. She says you owe her._

“She wants an encore,” Ben said, looking at Rey. “What’s a good one? For both of us?”

“Paganini. 24.” Rey said automatically.

“Can you do it?” Ben asked urgently.

“Of course.” She sounded faintly exasperated.

“On piano?” He knew she could. He’d heard her play it dozens of times on the piano at his hotel.

But now she was confused. “Well. Yes. Luke made me –”

“- practice every day,” Ben finished, nodding.

_Luke. He used to make me do the same thing, practice on the violin when I wanted to play the piano. Something about “cross-training.” The fucking Kenobi method._

Ben let out a loud, bellowing laugh, and Rey stared at him like he was crazy.

 

Rey thought he might be losing his grip after everything over the past few weeks. _What the hell? He wants me to play piano?_

Ben seemed to make up his mind quickly about something, then asked, “Rey, do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He snatched the _Hammer_ out of her hands, swiping the bow from her, as well. He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss on the lips.

“What, you’re playing the violin part? To _Caprice_? Are you joking?” Rey’s hands went to her hips as she glanced out at the audience, still giving a roaring standing ovation.

“Not even a little,” he responded confidently. “Let’s do this.”

“But, why?”

“It’ll be fun. I have a good feeling about this… and this might be the last time I get to play for an audience like this…”

His words were too much for her brain to process at the moment. _Fun? Last time?_

“Ben! When’s the last time you even held a violin?” Rey squeaked. Her stomach began to flutter nervously.

“Before just now? A while.” They both knew damn well it had been _quite_ a while.

Ben shrugged and rolled his shoulders like an athlete preparing to take the field, rolling his neck from side to side and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Rey wondered if he did this before every performance.

“Ben this is one of the most difficult pieces of music ever written. Are you sure you’ve got this?” Rey asked desperately. “There are thousands of people out there... Your _mother_ is out there. We can’t fucking mess this up!”

“Language, Sweetheart. My _mother_ is out there,” Ben’s voice was scandalized even though his eyes were twinkling.

Ben was herding her to the stage. “Rey, we don’t have time to pick another song, and I really want to do this with you. Unless you’re telling me you’re afraid?”

“Afraid? I’m not afraid!” Rey blustered. They were just feet away from being visible to the audience when she realized what he was doing.

He was distracting her. On purpose. He was helping her put on her game face.

Hooking the bow onto the same hand holding the _Hammer_ , Ben held out the other to her, open palmed, fingers outstretched in supplication.

She could see the love he had for her in every line of his face, the warmth in his beautiful eyes, and the poignant desperation in his extended hand.

He said earnestly, “Marry me? _Please._ ”

As far as proposals went, it was perfect.

Rey’s heart flew right out of her chest and into the sky as she slapped her hand into his, gripping tightly.

“Oh, I hope you’re as good with that thing,” she said smartly, nodding to the violin, “As you are with a piano.”

A dark eyebrow arched in challenge, even as he pulled her onto the stage. The grin on his face was ridiculously arrogant.

“We’ll see,” he smirked.

At their appearance on the stage, the audience roared. They knew what was happening.

They cheered because they were getting a _Kylo Ren encore._ And Kylo Ren _never_ did encores.

Even more astonishing, especially to those who had seen him perform before, he was _smiling_. Kylo Ren never smiled.

 _But Ben Solo does,_ thought Rey.

Cameramen throughout the room blessed or cursed themselves, depending on whether or not they had maintained the foresight to leave their cameras running throughout the standing ovation.

“Don’t get lost in the tempo, _Ben_ ,” Rey warned firmly.

“I won’t.” He sounded very confident, and Rey shook her head.

As they whirled further onto the stage, holding hands, his long legs brushed against her skirts.

When they reached the bench in front of the piano, Ben pulled her to him with his free hand and kissed her passionately. In full view of everyone.

Then he winked at her and murmured knowingly, “Oh, and Rey? You’ve never _really_ seen me play the violin.”

At the kiss, the crowd went wild. The energy in the concert hall could not have been more jubilant.

Ben smiled even more broadly at her, playfully flicking at her skirts with the bow, and he stepped forward to meet the crowd, still grinning.

Every single eye in the room was trained on center stage. His charisma radiated to the edges of the hall and the audience understood their cue to quiet down.

“Thank you,” Ben said warmly, nodding to each corner of the hall. He was not wearing a microphone, but his resonant voice echoed clearly throughout.

It occurred to Rey this was probably the first time he’d ever spoken directly to an audience in his life.

Rey took her seat at the piano bench, adjusting her long skirts so she could reach the pedals. Her stomach fluttered with nerves until she looked at the man she loved with all her heart.

“Thank you all,” Ben continued as the audience settled. “You may be wondering why she’s over there,” he nodded to Rey at the piano, “and why I’m right here. And holding this.”

He looked at the violin in his hands and lifted it up a bit for emphasis, still smiling as he glanced back around the room.

“We’re going to do a very special encore tonight for a good friend who couldn’t be here. Jenny, this is for you. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Niccolò Paganini’s _Caprice 24_.”

A low murmur went through the crowd as those who understood the significance of what he’d said whispered to their neighbors with anticipatory glee. Like a wildfire, the murmurs became whispers, then applause, then raucous shouts of encouragement.

Kylo Ren would be playing the _violin_ , once owned by the legendary Anakin Skywalker, and he would be playing an incredibly difficult piece at that.

When they realized Rey would be playing piano portion of the duet, they broke into unrestrained applause again.

If ever there was a once-in-a-lifetime, live performance to watch, it would be this one…

 _We could have picked an easier song,_ Ben thought to himself as the audience finally settled itself after several more minutes of enthusiastic cheering and applause.

 _We probably could have played_ Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star _and gotten this reaction…_

He lifted the _Hammer_ to his shoulder and fixed his gaze on Rey.

He saw the same thought reflected in her eyes, and spoke firmly across the short distance between them, “Too late to back out now.”

She grinned at him, eyes shining with love. “I love you,” she mouthed.

“I know,” he murmured softly.

The love reflected back from her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

_We belong together._

She plucked out the introductory chord, and Ben Solo lifted his bow.

And they played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me thank each and every one of you for reading. Your comments, kudos, tweets, and support have fed my heart and soul.
> 
> Second. There will be an epilogue. A good one. I promise.
> 
> Finally, I apologize for the cliffhangers, catastrophes, and for any tears or angst, I may have caused. Believe it or not, I cried, too.
> 
> You should all know, I am a true romantic at heart and I will always root for the happiest of endings.
> 
> XOXO,  
> Amy B.


	39. Epilogue: Brahms Lullaby

**Many years ago, in an orphanage in New York…**

Leia Organa had been visiting the Eternal Hope Home for Children regularly for many years, now. As was her custom, she went directly to the music studio that covered most of the first floor, an old ballroom, as the Home was a converted hotel.

The orphanage had been a Skywalker family venture for generations now, started by Luke and Leia’s mother, Padme Amidala, well before they were born. Padme, daughter of a wealthy politician, would never have foreseen that her own twins would someday become orphans themselves, but she had been raised to care for those less fortunate than she, regardless of where they came from. The orphanage had been a focus of her passion before her untimely death, a place of refuge and care in the middle of a harsh, unforgiving city. 

A bit shabby, but well-maintained, the hotel-turned-orphanage boasted four stories, twenty-eight rooms, and facilities to accommodate well over fifty orphans in the heart of New York City. As a world-class musician and philanthropist, Leia had implemented a music program there years ago, to be overseen by her brother, Luke Skywalker, who was a famous maestro in his own right, although he was mostly retired, with the occasional exception of guest conducting at the New York Philharmonic.

As Leia waited in Luke’s office, just off the ballroom, to discuss finances and other mundane matters necessitated by involving various aged children in various musical instruments and skill-levels, she heard the muted sounds of Beethoven’s _Moonlight Sonata_ drifting from the ballroom.

Her heart ached at the music that reminded her of her son.

_Ben. I hope you’re okay, wherever you are._

“Did you put music on for our visit? Trying to soften me up?” She chuckled at her brother who sat across a battered desk from her. This was something Luke would do – try to create an appealing atmosphere in the hopes his sister would loosen her purse strings for whatever he was about to ask for.

“No, I…” Luke stopped, listening. “I haven’t started anyone on piano, yet. Someone’s playing in the ballroom.”

He stood from behind his desk and made to go into the other room to investigate. The children were supposed to be in class right now, music time wasn’t scheduled until later in the afternoon.

“Wait, Luke. Listen.” Leia stopped him, holding up her hand and closing her eyes. The soft sounds of music drifted in. Although a few wrong notes were hit, and the tempo varied, whoever was playing was doing a decent job of it. A very decent job.

“You haven’t played this for them yet, have you?” Leia’s statement became a question as her eyes flickered up to meet Luke’s. He shook his head mutely, frozen in wonder.

“Maybe someone else is here? It can’t be one of the children…” His voice trailed off as he heard the song pick up in pace and volume.

 _Moonlight_ was a piece that started slowly in a traditional _adagio_ but became tumultuous, almost violent in the fervent climax of the third movement, or _presto agitato_ , ending, unlike a typical sonata, rather aggressively.

Together, Luke and Leia crept quietly to the doorway, watching as a skinny girl sat at the battered old baby grand. It was undoubtedly the girl who was apparently playing the piece from memory.  Her feet could not reach the pedals because she was too small, but the notes flowed forth clear and true.

Luke realized that she only missed notes because her hands were yet too small to cover the spread between the keys.

When the girl started on the third movement, Luke and Leia’s eyes caught again.

They both had the same thought at the same time, but Leia was the one to whisper it aloud.

_“A prodigy.”_

 

**Five years ago, at a very special encore performance…**

Leia knew only a very small handful of musicians in the world could pull off what they were doing. Very possibly only these two.

Her heart swelled with joy when she saw the peace and happiness on her son’s handsome features. Leia had never seen him so happy, not since he was a small boy. His exultation radiated throughout the concert hall, creating an electric atmosphere.

She had cheered loudly along with the rest of the crowd when he kissed Rey, right onstage in full view of the world. _I have a feeling I’ll be getting some grandchildren very soon…_

A tear of gratitude crept down her cheek that things had worked out the way they had. _Hope is like the sun…_

Contentment flowed through her as she realized her son had finally found peace and belonging. She thought about Amilyn’s proposal and remembered the incredulous look on Ben’s face when he realized he was not, in fact, going to prison…

When he realized he might actually be able to live a normal life.

Ben and Rey played together as if they were one person, each giving and taking of the music together equally.

When they played, Ben’s violin pierced through the crowd like a beam of light… and Rey played the piano with her typical, irrepressible passion. Together their music blended into an inspiration, soulful and powerful.

The low hum of the _Hammer_ became a sweet cry of ecstasy as the chords flowed out, perfectly complemented by the low, dark thrum of the piano rumbling through like thunder.

It was a storm, thunder and lightning. Light and dark. Peace and violence. It was _balance_.

At the end, Leia stood and cheered – she hadn’t missed the glow in their eyes as they held hands and took a long bow, together. She didn’t miss her son hand his violin to the beautiful young lady on the stage and sweep her into his arms, carrying her away like a bride…

 _Damn melodramatic Solos. Just like his father_ , Leia thought.

As the audience finally began to exit the building, Leia knew only a few of the people around her knew how close these people had come to a horrible death. Because of one greedy, soulless man. And how they had been saved by a few brave individuals, including her son.

The atmosphere couldn’t have been more jubilant, more excited as everyone around her buzzed with expectation and their plans to follow the careers of what would be two legendary musicians.

Which is why it was such a shock when they exited the building, watching as Kylo Ren climbed into a limousine just outside. Everyone was waving and cheering from the exit.

And then the car exploded, and all hell broke loose.

The news the next day rocked the world as Ren’s death and final performances were now inextricably linked.

**Excerpt from the Last Will and Testament of Kylo Ren, born Benjamin Han Organa-Solo**

_…everything I have, and I need to try to make this right._

_Please believe what I said in that dressing room tonight was such a lie. It was unforgivable of me to do what I did, and I hate myself for it, almost as much as you should hate me._

_I cannot ask for you to forgive me, though, for doing what I thought needed to be done to keep you safe. I know how stubborn you are, Rey, and … I don’t think you would have gone into that audience quietly if I’d told you the truth._

_The truth is…_

_Rey, you have always been there, right in my heart. You are the music in my soul, the light that keeps the darkness away. You’ve always been that light – and that is why I am ashamed. Because I never understood it or appreciated it until it was too late, and now it is too late for you to ever understand what your friendship meant to me, how it carried me through my darkest hours._

_The Hammer should belong to you, always. I cannot regret coming for it, because we never would have reunited. I know it’s incredibly selfish for me to say so, and in spite of the terrible danger I’ve put you in, I can’t bring myself to be sorry for the past few months we’ve spent together._

_You made me whole again. You reminded me that there is still a beating heart inside this monster’s chest. And although I’ve fucked up everything royally… well. At least I got to be with you for a few moments in time. The best moments of my life._

_If I could give you everything, I would do it, sweetheart. Everything I have is yours._

_If I don’t make it back, then you need to know my heart has always belonged to you and only you._

_I love you, Rey._

_Always,_

_Ben_

 

**Five years later…**

Kylo Ren was long dead…

…But Ben Solo was alive and well…

When they’d faked Kylo Ren’s death, with the help of Holdo and Poe, it had been part of the deal they’d made with Ben and Phasma.

In return for that and Phasma’s immunity for her role in the First Order, Ben and Phasma had given detailed information to Holdo, allowing Holdo to root out the entire First Order once and for all.

Ben deserved a shot at a real life and happiness.

Leia couldn’t have agreed more.

Leia smiled softly as she watched her grandson pluck the keys of the battered old piano at Eternal Hope. Many years ago, her son had given it a name – _Millennium Falcon_ … her gaze faded into wistful memory as she looked around the room.

The ashes of Anakin Skywalker rested on a shelf nearby. At their mother’s house in London, Luke and Leia had found a series of letters between their parents and realized they had been passionately in love…and while Anakin had been involved in a dangerous, immoral world, his last letter indicated he’d been trying to get back to his wife to leave the First Order. It was probably the last thing he'd sent to her before he'd found her dead.

It had been Anakin who had ensured his children were adopted … before he’d returned to the First Order and cut all ties from his children. For their safety? They would never know, but they liked to think so.

They put the pieces together and decided his remains should stay at the place that symbolized their mother’s life’s work.

In a place of Eternal Hope.

Leia recalled Ben’s sweet face from childhood. Ben had always done what he wanted and be damned to the rest of the world… and his son was the spitting image of him.

Leia heard an ear-splitting screech as Ben strode into the music room, his daughter perched on his shoulders, clinging to his hair. He jostled her, and she squealed with delight.

“Hey, Mom. Are you staying for dinner? Rey’s not cooking, I promise…” Ben grinned at her. It had become their habit to eat dinner at Eternal Hope on Sundays, with mixed results. Somehow whenever Rey helped in the kitchen, there was always some kind of disaster that resulted in huge quantities of takeout being ordered.

“HEY! I’m right here!” Rey shouted from the other side of the room, crouched in front of the massive bookshelves full of vinyl records of every musical recording imaginable. Ben winked at his mother.

“I’ll stay,” Leia promised. “If Maz is doing the cooking.”

“Yeah. Chewie’s in there with her… they’re definitely cooking up something…” Ben muttered, swinging his dark-haired little girl down to the floor with another squeal from her.

Leia’s eyes sparkled as she held out her hands to her granddaughter. “Jenny! I swear you have the vocal cords of a true prima donna.”

“Found it!” Rey announced, holding up a record album with a tall, forbidding-looking blonde man on the cover. In the picture, he held a very recognizable violin. Even in black and white, the gleam of the blonde tones of the instrument was discernible.

Rey carried the album to the record player, where Luke stood nearby.

“Ah, yes! The Skywalker recording of Sibelius – perfect, Rey!” Luke exclaimed. He took the album from Rey’s hand and contemplated it for a moment before sliding the record from its case and placing it on the turntable.

The opening strains of music had just begun to flow through the room when they heard a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Leia volunteered. _I need to stretch my legs,_ she thought.

Leia made her way to the front entrance of Eternal Hope and opened the door. Her shock was immediate, as she recognized a person she never thought she would see again.

The woman before her was very, very tall. Possibly taller than Ben. Her sharp blue eyes took in everything at a glance and Leia felt a chill.

“Jenny! Won’t you come in?” Leia asked, opening the door further to allow their visitor inside. “You must be freezing out there! Can I take your coat? Won’t you stay for dinner?”

Despite her trepidation, Leia’s manners would always be impeccable.

“I need to talk to Ben,” the woman said quietly. “I’ll just be a minute. I can’t stay long.”

“Ben!” Leia called. But he was already there. Intensely curious, Leia stood back to make room for her son.

“Phas. What are you doing here?” he asked softly.

“I’m calling in a favor. I need your help.” Phasma replied. There was a long pause as the two stared at each other.

Leia turned away to give them a moment, but not before she overheard…

_“How do you feel about resurrecting Kylo Ren for a few weeks?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, to everyone who read, commented, subscribed, bookmarked, and left kudos on this work. It literally fed me for the past few months. My heart is full, and I am so very grateful!
> 
> If you liked this work, I have a few other works in progress, which I hope to be finishing up over the next few months. Please find me on Twitter @beegood_amy if you would like updates and, as always, XOXO!
> 
> -Amy B.


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